


I'm With the Band

by ended_up_here



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Band, Alternate Universe - Famous, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Band, Blond!Levi, Booty Calls, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Illegal Activities, M/M, Music, Non-Binary Hange Zoë, Piercings, Recreational Drug Use, Rock Band, Smoking, Swearing, Tattoos, Touring, a lot of swearing, blond levi, creative swearing, historia not krista, just in case it isnt clear yet, law breaking, mature topics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ended_up_here/pseuds/ended_up_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger wasn't quite sure how he ended up working for the up-and-coming rock band Legion. Nepotism, probably, but that was beside the point. </p><p>He wasn't complaining. A job was a job and he could only live on ramen noodles for so long, but, holy crap, someone should've warned him. </p><p>Like, come on. He should've been forewarned about where he'd be living for the next couple months (an ancient truck and camper), about what he'd be doing (putting his previously useless social media talents to good use as Legion's New Media Manager), and especially about who he'd have to deal with (an angel who'd taken a wrong turn into a rock band; a father figure who was the only reason nobody was dead yet; a responsible man with a weakness for LSD; a crazy guitarist with a passion for music and being obnoxious; and an asshole who just so happens to be incredibly hot for someone who is barely five feet tall. Like, number one on a 'To Do' list, not considering personality). </p><p>Might as well make the best out of it, though (maybe bang the asshole drummer while he's at it). </p><p>He's on tour with a rock band — who wouldn't kill to be in his shoes? </p><p>On the other hand, though, he's probably going to die early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there was one rule and of course I broke it

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note: this fic is mature for strong (!!) language (I'm also kinda creative with swearing so yeah), mature topics (like drugs, alcohol, etc.) and sexual content.
> 
> Disclaimer: characters and attack on titan stuff do not belong to me. I also mention other artists and music that exists in real life. that is not mine either. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!! Please give me some feedback to tell me how I'm doing! Any support will motivate me to update sooner!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamned door? 
> 
> \- 'I Write Sins not Tragedies' by Panic! at the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I edited this chapter 8/9 (three chapters in). It's not necessary to reread, really, but I need to establish an upcoming arc that will soon take place in future chapters!! Basically, I added a few hints to Eren's backstory and a whole bunch of swearing. That's basically it.

When I went to university for art and photography, I never expected I’d end up here. Well, I never really had a plan to begin with, which, in retrospect, was kind of stupid, but I’ve never been all that great at planning ahead.

I mean, yeah, my photography was pretty damn good, if I have to say so myself, but I’m pretty sure the only reason I was hired for this stupid job was because I was really good at Twitter and Tumblr, which isn’t something I’m exactly proud of. Like, sure, I have about a hundred thousand followers total (Facebook included, but, let’s be honest, who counts Facebook anymore?), but spending a majority of time on my ass alone at home on some social media site has historically been a source of shame rather than a livable income.

I’m still on the fence as to if social media skills could actually be a successful career path.

Of course, if it means I’ll have to spend the next couple of months living in this piece of shit, I might have to change my mind.

This piece of shit is a rusty blue pickup truck from god knows what year. It looks like it was one wrong move from just falling to pieces. Resting on top of the cab and on the truck bed is an honest-to-god truck camper, probably just as old as the truck from the looks of it.

I stare at it blankly, then turn to look at my foster siblings. They stand a couple feet behind me, looking amused at my reaction. Armin, my foster brother of nine years, had what he could of his blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail, wisps hanging into his amusement-filled blue eyes. Mikasa, my foster sister of twelve years, was less obviously amused. She was bent over her phone, but even through her curtain of dark hair, I could see her eyes sparkling with the same amusement as Armin’s.

"Armin," I said neutrally. "I thought the band we're working for is popular."

"Yes, they are very popular," Armin answered, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. "Your point?" he asked innocently.

I turned to face them fully, jabbing a finger at the offensive residence. "Then why the fuck are we staying in a goddamn nineties-era truck camper mounted on a rusty pickup truck!?"

Armin laughed, unable to hide his mirth. “What were you expecting?” he joked. He looked over at Mikasa, who looked up from her phone screen just long enough to make eye-contact. She was still as stoic as ever, but her sparkling eyes showed she was just as amused by my outrage as Armin was. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re only the New Media Manager. Being in charge of the band’s twitter does not equal tour bus privileges.”

Mikasa looked up from her phone for the first time. “It’s not like it’s the worst place you’ve stayed.”

She had a point, and I couldn’t think of anything to say to it. I groaned loudly and let my hand drop, then raised it again to rub the bridge of my nose roughly. “Remind me, why in hell am I doing this fucking job again?”

“Because the last guy pissed off Levi and got fired,” Mikasa answered, taking my rhetorical question as a chance to lecture me (Okay, so I probably got into enough trouble to deserve them, but, fucking hell, I was getting tired of Mikasa’s famous lectures. They were legendary, and almost always guilted me into doing what she wanted). “And I recommended you because I was worried about what health problems you’d develop from eating ramen noodles so often.” Mikasa kept her tone light and didn’t add any other reasons, but the gap where they would have been was obvious. I tensed, clutching my hands tight, but I tried not to think too far into my extensive list of ‘Reasons Why Eren’s Life is Fucked Up.’

Instead, I responded to Mikasa, ignoring the blatant exclusions. I tried to stay upbeat, but, judging from the looks on Mikasa and Armin’s faces, I didn’t do too great of a job. Luckily, they seemed just as eager to move on as I was. I shuddered, shaking out my arms. “Never mention those goddamn ramen noodles again,” I gagged. Quickly looking to change the subject before my gagging turned into actual dry heaving, I asked, “Levi’s the... drummer, right?”

Armin and Mikasa looked at each other incredulously. “God, Eren, I know that the higher ups try to avoid hiring fans, but couldn’t you’ve at least googled the band before coming?” Armin demanded.

“I did!” I defended. “I can’t remember everything!”

I actually had searched the band. I could remember faintly the images of each member, some of their songs that I’d thought weren’t too bad — I was more of a rap and hip-hop kind of guy — and random facts that I’d somehow absorbed, like Levi naturally averaged four hours of sleep a night, the lead singer cried and wet herself before the band’s first show, and that every member of the band had a tattoo somewhere of the band’s logo: two crossed wings, one light and one dark. Honestly, the stuff I selectively learn is fucking ridiculous. I could’ve remembered the important shit, but no. Of course not. This is why I was never very good at the whole ‘school’ thing.

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “You’re lying, moron, your ears are turning red,” she said. “You should be able to remember my cousin, at least.”

"I remember him!" I defended. "Just not what he does!"

Mikasa’s biological cousin, Levi, was the only one in the band I knew, and by knew I mean actually remember the name and face. Mikasa and Levi’s mothers were sisters, and the two would spent a lot of time together while their mothers were alive. After their respective deaths, the two went their separate ways, Mikasa into the system, and Levi into the slums to be raised by their sadistic uncle. Mikasa didn’t talk about Levi much, though, so I didn’t know much about him, let alone his band.

I huffed as Armin and Mikasa exchanged exasperated looks. I set down my duffel bag onto my roller suitcase and stretched my sore shoulder. Maybe I over packed...

“Alright, then,” Armin said with a raised eyebrow, calling my bluff. “Tell me all about the band.”

I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. There was no way to come out of this one with my pride unscathed. “Uh, they’re called Legion. There’s five members: Levi, Mike, Eric, and... Shit, I forgot the last two... Fuck... Um, Hannah? No, fuck...”

Armin held up a hand to stop me. “God, Eren,” he said, exasperated. I grinned sheepishly, laughing lightly in embarrassment.

Mikasa snorted.. “The only thing you got right was the name of the band.”

“Alright, so crash-course for the noob,” Armin began in his condescending intellectual voice. As someone who was both around Armin frequently and only averagely smart compared to his brother’s genius, I heard this voice a lot — way more than desireable. “Legion is a rock band formed two years ago in San Diego, California. There are five members. You got Levi Ackerman, the drummer, and Mike Zacharius, the bass guitarist. There’s also Hanji Zoe, the lead guitarist, Erwin Smith, the rhythmic guitarist, and Petra Ral, the lead vocalist.”

I nodded, my face screwing up and my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to commit Armin’s info dump to memory. _I need this job. I can’t go back to what I was doing._ I shuddered. _No, fuck, don’t think about that now — Stop getting distracted. Shit, wait, what were the names again? Fuck._ “Levi, Erwin, Mike, Petra, and Hanji,” I repeated.

“Right,” Armin confirmed.

I nodded again, mumbling the names under my breath over and over until they lost all meaning whatsoever. _I can’t lose this job. I’m not about to go back to — no. I have nothing to go back to. I can’t lose this job._  My mood darkened.

Armin hefted his duffel bag onto his scrawny arm and began to head towards the sorry excuse for a home. “I can tell you more when we’re getting settled,” he offered.

“Please,” I requested, practically begging, lifting up my own duffel bag back onto my shoulder, the aching muscles, tendons, and ligaments screaming in protest. I popped up the handle on my rolling suitcase and began to follow Armin, swearing while I tried to carry my backpack, duffel bag, and rolling suitcase. I peered into the small living space and realized that I’d definitely overpacked (In my defense though, I wasn’t aware we’d be sharing a ten-fucking-square-foot space). I looked back to see whether or not Mikasa was following, but she hadn’t moved, still typing away on her phone. She must have felt my gaze, since she chose that moment to look up and meet my eyes, waving me to head on without her before turning back to her phone, brows furrowed. I shrugged and entered, my heart sinking at the prospect of living in this shack for the foreseeable future.

I looked around the obviously old camper, taking in the three-by-three bathroom that only held a toilet and nothing else, the pseudo-kitchen right beside it, comprised of solely a sink and a burner surrounded by fucking horrific maroon countertop, a booth comprised of a table and two sparsely benches with padding covered by ugly checkered red fabric, and worn wooden cabinets directly to my right and above and below the sink and stove. A single bed rested on the space above the cab, covered with a plain tan sheet and maroon comforter, four pillows stacked neatly on one side. The bedding was the only moderately contemporary thing in the entire space.

“We have to live here?” I asked, aghast. I stood frozen in the tiny doorway, pausing in my struggle to squeeze through with all of my luggage.

Armin rolled his eyes. “This is why we didn’t show you sooner,” he said. He walked over to the benches and pulled off the cushions, revealing even more storage space. He pointed to the one opposite. “That one’s for your stuff. And, for god’s sake, Eren, I know you’re a slob, but please, please, I’m begging you, you are to keep your crap neat and tidy so that this place doesn’t feel smaller than it already does.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that much of a slob,” I muttered dejectedly, wondering why I was even trying to argue that. In my old apartment, I was famous for my Everest-sized trash piles and trash pile-smelling laundry. _It’s easier that way,_ I argued with my conscience. _Everything’s laid out on the floor where I can see it. You just don’t understand my organization methods._ I shook myself out of my stupor and made my way over to my designated storage space, bumping against everything in my path. I flopped my duffel and backpack onto the ugly — you guessed it — maroon carpeting, and my shoulders and back sang hymns of praise. I copied Armin and removed the ugly cushion, wondering in the back of my mind if I’d find something weird inside, like a dead body or maybe a gun. Wouldn’t be the first time.

It was thankfully empty, so I unzipped my rolling suitcase and began to load my clothing in.

“It helps if you arrange your clothes vertically. That way you can get to everything, even though the cabinet’s a bit deep,” Armin advised quietly. I glanced over at what he was doing, then looked at my own piles. I sighed, pulled out what I’d done, and started over.

We worked in silence for a while. Mikasa joined at one point, but she put her luggage into a section of the cabinet directly next to the door. Some necessities like toilet paper and soaps were already lining some of the other shelves. Mikasa and Armin had obviously started packing without me, probably to keep me from seeing where we’d be living until the last possible moment when there was no option of backing out.

Armin finished quickly, the process coming quickly to him after three other tours. He was only thirty-two, and was a prodigal Media rep for the company. He’d gotten assigned to Legion in the hopes that his skill in both charming the media and telling them oh-so-politely to fuck off would help Legion, which had suffered from a series of unfavorable media attention in the past that caused many people to view the band a bit negatively.

“Alright, so, Legion,” Armin began, settling down on the replaced cushion. He scratched his temple with a slender pointer finger and pushed some strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. “Um, okay. So, Petra Ral. She’s the lead singer, and pretty much the band mother. No one can understand how she wound up in a rock band — you’ll understand when you meet her — but she sings well, so no one really cares,” Armin began. He frowned thoughtfully and continued. “Mike’s a good guy, just likes what he shouldn’t a bit too much, you could say. He’s the strong and silent type, and decently responsible, but he’s on something more often than not, and if he offers you brownies, say no — well, unless you’re into that or whatever. He’s a musical genius, though, and composes most of the songs.”

“He’s into drugs?” I asked, taken aback, looking up from my t-shirts. “Isn’t that illegal?”

Armin scoffed and said, “He’s in a rock band. If he’s talented and famous, who really cares all that much?” He paused, screwing up his face in a disappointed derision. “That’s not my view, but that seems to be the reason why the higher-ups haven’t done anything to stop it yet.”

I frowned. It was true that, as a rockstar, Mike was probably able to get away with it, but that still didn’t make it right — not that my moral compass was any better. It was probably hypocritical to judge him over it when the only reason I was so against it was because he had more privileges because he was famous. It still made me uneasy though: who exactly was I working for? A drug addict? Not to mention management that see no problem in the talent using drugs, even if it’s illegal and damages his health? I was trying to get out of situations like that, now it just seemed like I had jumped out of the pan and into the fire.

Armin grimaced. His wide blue eyes showed that he understood what was going on in my head. He changed the subject quickly, choosing not to dwell on that particular topic. I mentally thanked him. “Anyway, then there’s Erwin. He’s the informal leader of the group, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that he’s the only reason why none of the band members are dead or incarcerated,” Armin said. “I think he’s also the only reason that their manager doesn’t put a gun in his mouth and blow his brains out, to be honest.”

I blanched. “Fuck, are they that bad?”

“For me and you?” Armin shrugged. “Probably not. For their managers? Hell yes.”

I tried to picture the band, unsure of what kind of band I was going to be working with. So far, it didn’t sound good. Again, I wondered why the hell I’d decided to accept this job. Mikasa had recommended I take it, though, so it couldn’t be that bad, especially since Mikasa was so preoccupied with my well being.

“Hanji’s just Hanji. That’s the only way you can describe them — ah, and they’re non-binary, by the way, and use they and them — and they’re... Yeah, I’ll just let you meet them.” Armin cleared his throat. I rubbed my face. This just got better and better. There was no fucking chance I’d be able to remember the pronouns. I’d try, but I was bound to slip up. Another way to piss people off. Great. “Lastly, Levi. I’m sure you know he’s Mikasa’s biological cousin, right? He’s easily angered, and a bit of a control freak. Pissing off Levi is the equivalent of a one-way ticket to unemployment.”

I bristled. What, this asshole thinks he’s some kind of god or something? Despite my best efforts to remain cool, I blanched. I did need this job, and I was historically bad with people. Getting into fights was a specialty of mine. My mind shorted out, like an electrical surge. “Armin,” I asked shakily. “What the fucking hell did I get myself into?”

I jumped when someone — Mikasa — patting my back, causing my entire body to jolt forward with every strike. Mikasa never meant to hit hard, but had trouble controlling her strength. The main problem was that she didn’t realize how strong she really was. She just thought other people were weak. “It’s not that bad,” she reassured.

“Not that bad?” I breathed incredulously. I nodded, wiping my mouth and pacing back and forth. “Right. Okay. Sure.”

“It’s true,” Armin agreed. “Levi’s a handful, but he’s got Petra and Erwin to rein him in, on top of Nanaba, their ‘nanny’.” Armin made quotation marks around the word ‘nanny’.

“Nanny?”

“Technically, she’s a manager, but most of us call her Legion’s nanny,” Armin explained. “Basically she comes on tours with them to make sure they don’t die.”

“Okay, you’ve said that a couple times, and it’s starting to make me freak the fuck out, Armin. Is dying really a fucking possibility here?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The day of our departure, Mikasa woke me up at the ass-crack of dawn so that we could hit the road. The drive was only an hour and a half or so, from San Diego to Pomona, California, the location of the first concert, but everyone was supposed to arrive early to prepare for the concert that would be held in two days.

I moaned, grumbled, and was pretty much useless as I shuffled around in a sleepy daze, but I was more-or-less awake and in the car when it was time to leave, if that counted for anything. I had dressed up for the day, hoping to impress (or at least not get on the bad side of) the members of Legion. Not like a button down and tie or anything: by dressed up, I mean a leather jacket over a (clean) white t-shirt, skinny cargo pants, and combat boots. I put black studs into my ear piercings and slid a pair of Ray-Bans on my face. Hopefully it would be appropriate for a rock band, right?

By means of drawing numbers, we’d decided that the trip would start out with Mikasa driving, Armin in the camper, and I riding shotgun.

 _“Why the fucking fuck can’t I ride in the fucking camper?”_ I’d complained in a whine. It was early, don’t blame me. _“Armin’s fucking awake, I want to go back to sleep!”_

 _“I thought you hated the camper,”_ Armin had replied slyly. _“Besides, if we change the draw now, what will be sacred anymore?”_

Bastard.

“What’s gonna be going on today?” I asked, shifting so that I could plop my feet on the dashboard. Mikasa whacked them and glared angrily.

“Number one rule of touring, Eren: respect the vehicle,” she ordered. “And — I can’t believe you don’t know this — the higher-ups told us the schedule only about five times within the past three days.”

“So-o-rry,” I mumbled. “I haven’t memorized the fucking schedule, thanks.”

Mikasa shook her head with a sigh, but she didn’t look upset or disappointed.

I unlocked my tablet, brand new and courtesy of Legion’s label, the Recon Corporation. As the New Media Manager, I was in control of all social media networking for the band and was given a tablet so that I could access the social media sites. Having complete control was both empowering and terrifying, and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about such a responsibility. With big power comes big responsibility.

I opened Legion’s twitter and started a post. I staring at the screen blankly, desperately trying to think of something to post and coming up with nothing. I was required to make a promotional tweet every once in a while, and had been advised by the higher-ups to make some sort of ‘see you all along our tour!’ post at some point that day.

 _Can’t wait to kick off our first world tour!_ I typed. _Pomona or bust!_

Ehh... was that lame? Too cheesy? Too cliche? Did the tone fit the mood of the band? No, that sucks. No, no, no...

Deleting everything, I started over. _Legion vs. the world.._. No. Fuck, no. I deleted that too. _I hope to see you all..._ No, just... No. I dropped his tablet onto my lap and groaned.

“Don’t overthink it,” Mikasa advised. “They hired you for a reason.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you and Armin recommended me,” I retorted.

Mikasa didn’t look away from the road while she smacked the back of my head. I jolted forward, jerking back after the seatbelt stopped elongating to accommodate my lean. I gasped and rubbed my head. Fucking hell, there’s gonna be a lump. Mikasa didn’t notice my pain. “They looked through your twitter before they hired you. Obviously they liked what you posted. Just do the same here.”

“I doubt they want me to post what I do on my Twitter on the official Legion page,” I quipped, wincing again after Mikasa landed another hit to my head. “Shit — Okay, okay! I know, I know! God.”

I retyped what I originally had, then, with my eyes squeezed shut, hit the post button. I sat frozen for a couple seconds, suddenly rethinking my post and realizing all the ways it sounded stupid.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Mikasa asked easily.

I turned to her in a panic. “Holy fuck, Mika, what if people think it’s fucking stupid? What if it’s fucking stupid? Oh, shit, I should probably just take it down, right?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes and grabbed my tablet from where I’d dropped it in my lap, so that I had my hands free so that I could flail them around in panic.

“Mikasa!” I cried, betrayal and desperation in my voice. I leaned over, trying to grab the tablet back. I probably should’ve realized that antagonizing someone who was trying to concentrate on driving was a bad idea, but I’ve been told I act first and think later.

Mikasa tsked. “Eren, you idiot, I’m driving!”

“Mikasa!” I wailed again.

A pounding from the truck camper shut them up. Armin had probably heard their fight and felt the car swerve as Mikasa tried to keep me from my  tablet, and had banged his fist on the wall. A muted, “What’re you doing, you freaking idiots?” could be heard from the back.

I settled back into my seat and pouted. “I need my tablet back. I’m supposed to check the band member’s accounts to make sure they’re not posting anything they shouldn't be.”

Mikasa didn’t even look over. “I’ll only give it back if you promise to keep the post up.”

“Shit — fine, fine!” I agreed in exasperation. “I’ll keep it up! Just give me my tablet back!”

Mikasa turned away from the moment to glare at her brother. Armin banged on the wall again in panic. “You swear? Or else I’ll do your makeup for the big end-of-tour crew party?”

I rolled his eyes, sinking further into my seat so that my chin was at dashboard level. “Yeah, I fucking swear.”

Mikasa handed me my tablet, shaking her head at my childish antics. I snatched it and cradled it to my chest. “I’ll never let you go again. I’m sorry,” I joked in a crooning voice.

Mikasa smacked me, and we both laughed easily, our little argument forgotten.

“So, Sasha, Connie, Marco, Jean, Historia and Ymir all are working with us?” I asked absentmindedly as I scrolled down Petra’s Facebook. He wasn’t best friends with them or anything, but he’d met Armin and Mikasa’s work friends when they all went out together sometimes. I wasn’t close with Marco Bott, Historia Reiss, or Ymir, and had a somewhat tense relationship with Jean Kirschstein (he really wasn’t bad, honestly, his personality was just so different from my own that clashes were inevitable and friendship seemed unlikely. Also, he’d said some stuff about people like me the first time we’d met that I couldn’t forgive, and even though he apologized, ever since then, we’d never been in each other’s presence without bickering). I’d become fast friends with Sasha Blaus and Connie Springer though, longtime partners who were more trouble than even me. It was the first time that I could actually use the excuse, ‘It wasn’t me’ and not be met with incredulity and disbelief.

Mikasa made a right-hand turn, pulling into a small parking lot. There were a bunch of other vans and campers already parked, forming a circle that looked like it was drawn by a kindergartener. People were loitering around, greeting each other, talking enthusiastically, and unloading gear. I spotted Connie and Sasha easily; they were jumping around, hooting loudly. Ymir and Historia were there also, setting up a couple of camping chairs outside of a white van. I spotted Marco and Jean unloading boxes from their truck, working together to bring them over to a trailer. Mikasa pulled into an empty spot in between Connie and Sasha’s van and Historia and Ymir’s. I was just grateful we were at least a car away from Jean. Mikasa shifted the car into park before turning it off, releasing her seatbelt and stretching.

Even though the ride was less than an hour, I could feel my legs cramping up and desperately needed to stretch them out. I’m not even going to start on my ass, which had gone numb and was tingling uncomfortably now that I could finally move it and allow the blood to return. I threw his door open, and there was a metallic clang and the door rebounded, shutting on my legs.

Everything froze for a couple seconds. Holy shit, did I just hit someone in the face? I wondered, my face blanching. I looked sideways at Mikasa, who was staring back at me, eyes wide. Great way to start a new job; fucking hell.

I carefully opened the door again and jumped out of the car to make sure the person I’d just brained was alright and to apologize. “Fuck, dude, I am so sor —” I began. I was cut off when I felt an explosion of pain radiating from my face. “Fucking shit!” I yelled, bending over and clutching at my nose.

_Did this dick just punch me in the face?_

When I pulled my hands away, blood was running down my fingers in rivulets. I’d been punched in the face before, and, while I was usually able to keep my composure afterwards, this was hands-down the most painful hit I’d ever taken. I could tell from the feel of it that my nose was probably broken. I wondered if this was the break that would make it crooked for life, but it had healed well the first five times, so I had hope. I hated appearing weak, but I couldn’t help the tears that were dripping involuntarily from my watering eyes. I pulled up my t-shirt and pressed it against my face, mourning the loss of my only unstained white t-shirt.

“I said I was sorry, you asshole!” I yelled in pain, muffled slightly by the shirt. I looked up at the figure in front of me, and when I saw the person I’d hit, and my eyes widened. I just about died right then and there.

Cold silver eyes stared at me, the expression in them making me feel like I was being set on fire from the inside out. I couldn’t help myself from looking the man up and down. He was shorter than expected, but made up for it with aggression, intimidation, and sex appeal. His hair, styled in an undercut, was platinum blond, but I could tell that his hair was naturally dark, like Mikasa’s, from his shaved section and roots, which had grow out a couple inches. His skin, despite his unhealthy lifestyle, was unblemished, save for numerous tattoos and piercings.  

He also had a bruised nose and forehead, and his eyes were beginning to develop two black shiners. Oh, shit. Wait — was his nose crooked? Holy crap, I think I broke his nose.

Even with my limited knowledge about Legion, I knew who it was. _I’m dead, I’m fucking dead, holy shit, holy fucking shit._ I can kiss this job goodbye. I can kiss this life goodbye. Goodbye, Mikasa; goodbye, Armin. I love you both.

 _Whatever you do, don’t piss off Levi,_ Armin had said.


	2. the universe just loves to make me suffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish that I was as invisible as you make me feel. 
> 
> -'The Pros and Cons of Breathing' by Fall Out Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 8/9

“What’s going on?” a female voice called. It was a very motherly tone, and by motherly I mean that tone that your mother uses when she knows that you did something awful and is just waiting for you to admit it. The voice was worried, dreading, concerned, resigned, angry, and caring, all at once. It was a voice of a mother who was resigned to the fact that her child was going to be eternally problematic. As an eternally problematic child myself, I heard this voice often, and it reminded me so much of my own mother that I started looking around for her long dark hair and deep skin before I remembered: _Oh, wait, she’s dead_. I felt like laughing or crying, but I couldn't tell which.

A woman rushed over to the both of us, taking in our black, purple, and red faces, made even more gruesome by our expressions of anger and hate. Her deep blue eyes widened.

“What did you do?” she asked, turning to Levi.

 _Is this fucking normal for him?_ I mentally shrieked. _What the hell, what the hell? Fuck, what did I get myself into? You wanted distance from violence, remember, you idiot?_

I tried to calm myself by taking in the stranger who had arrived. I guessed that this woman was Nanaba, Legion’s so-called nanny. Nobody else would be capable of such a motherly tone, but the babysitter for what I’d decided was most problematic band in existence must have perfected it by now.

Levi made an angry noise. When I looked over — and a bit down — at his face though, it was stony and cold, and the only signs of anger that I could see were the fire raging in his eyes and his thin lips, which were pressed so tightly together they were blanching. “He hit me with a fucking door,” the drummer said, like that made punching someone in the face okay. I gaped at him in disbelief, not even thinking to open my mouth to defend myself.

Nanaba gave him a severe look. It reminded me so much of my mother that I flinched. “So you punched him back?”

“Of course,” Levi confirmed nonchalantly. He took a deep breath, bringing his hands up to hold in front of him. I hadn’t noticed, but they were clenched tightly enough to turn the knuckles white and draw blood where his black nails dug into his palms. He slowly flexed them, trying to relax. Unlike me, whose nose was producing a steady stream of blood, only a bit trickled down from his right nostril. Not fair! I wanted to scream. “I’d really love to stand around and debate the morality behind punching some dickass in the face,” he began, an icy edge creeping into his voice. “But I’m pretty sure my nose is broken and it fucking hurts.” He shot me a dirty look.

“I said I was sorry, you asshole!” I repeated. Tears welled in my eyes, an involuntary reaction after an impact to the nose, but I kept them down by sheer willpower. Blood dripped from my shirt onto the ground, and I repositioned it to better catch all of the blood. “You didn’t have to punch me in the fucking face!”

“An eye for an eye,” he shrugged.

“Makes the whole world _fucking blind_ , you dick!” I finished.

Okay, I probably wasn’t doing myself any favors by yelling and calling him names, but I couldn’t control myself. The pain in my face was overwhelming.

A smooth hand grabbed my chin, manicured nails digging into my cheeks as it forced my face up. I met Mikasa’s furious silver eyes, identical to her cousin’s.

“What did you do, Levi?” she asked furiously, entering ‘Protective Mikasa’ mode. Armin and I joked that she was like the Hulk sometimes. “It looks like you broke his nose!”

Levi’s face softened a bit when he saw Mikasa, but it only lasted for a split second. He looked back at me, and the softness in his expression was gone completely, replaced with contempt. He didn’t say anything (What could he say, though, without sounding like a child? ‘He broke mine first?’).

“It was an accident; you didn’t have to hit him,” Mikasa scolded furiously. She turned back to me, face becoming worried as her anger disappeared. “Are you okay, Eren? Do you need a hospital?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, choking on the blood that wasn’t leaving my nose properly now that my face was tilted back. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve broken my nose.”

Mikasa scowled. “Yes, and you promised that you’d never get in a fight again and make me worry about you.”

I sighed. _Ouch, fuck, bad idea._ “Mika, this one was not my fault.”

“Uh, yes, it  fucking was,” Levi interrupted harshly. He gently touched his nose with the back of his hand before pulling it away and holding it in front of him. Compared to the streams of blood running down my hands and forearms, his blood was nothing, but he was still eyeing it disdainfully. “Disgusting,” he mumbled, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

Nanaba, who had watched the argument like a tennis match for a while finally shook herself and stepped forward, putting a hand on Levi and Mikasa’s shoulders. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll take them both to the hospital, Mikasa, so that you can get all set up. Let Pixis know where we’re going.”

“I can come!” Mikasa insisted adamantly. “I can get Historia to grab my stuff for me!”

Nanaba shook her head. “No, stay here,” she said. “You have work to do. Your brother will be fine.”

Mikasa gave Nanaba a dubious look before glaring pointedly at Levi.

“I’ll make sure Levi doesn’t kill him,” Nanaba assured her with an eye roll.

Mikasa stalked off, sending Levi a dangerous look over her shoulder as she went. “He’d better not.”

 

* * *

 

That’s how I found myself in the backseat of a car, next to a member of a world-famous band, with my face buried in a bloody t-shirt, completely done with everyone and everything. I was too tired to even be afraid of or angry at the man next to me. I was even too tired to laugh at how short he was for someone with a reputation like his. 

I sighed, tired and lost. Social interactions had never been my strong suit, and this was like a fucking exam I hadn't prepared for. Just to be sure that Mikasa and Armin wouldn’t end up shopping for coffins, I repeated again, “I am sorry by the way.” It took all of my self control to not tack on a _‘you bastard’_ at the end. Judging from Levi’s snort, he could tell.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “My nose is still fucking broken.” Unlike me, he didn’t bother with politeness. “You fucker.”

It was probably the best I was going to get, so I turned back to watch the scenery pass by through the window, trying to ignore the throbbing in my nose.

“Hopefully the doctors will speed us along,” Nanaba said, not to tell us anything important, but rather to interrupt the awkward silence. “We want to keep this somewhat private, and we need to be back to the venue as soon as possible.” She looked at Levi in the rearview mirror. “Think you can still preform?”

My eyes widened. Holy shit, what if I caused them to cancel the concert? _Oh, man, I’m so fired._

Levi scoffed. “Of course I can.”

“Right, Mr. Tough Guy,” Nanaba joked with an eye roll. “Well, if you say you’re good to go and the doctor clears you, I don’t see any problem, but we’ll stop at the drugstore on our ride home for some pain medication and ice packs.”

There was a pause. “Oh, and Eren,” Nanaba began, turning to me this time. “You might want to think about posting something to explain Levi’s nose.”

Levi’s gaze turned murderous.

Thanks, Nanaba. That’s the final nail in the coffin. I’m not just fired, I’m dead. I rolled my eyes heavenward.  _Hey, God, sorry for saying I didn't believe in you and everything, but think you could possibly let me sneak by the pearly gates?_

Levi took in my expression and huffed angrily. “For fuck’s sake, kid, despite what you seem to believe, I’m not going to kill you.”

So of course, the only thing that came out of my mouth then was, “I’m not a kid.” _Thank you, brain, you can go fuck yourself._

Levi looked amused — or at least what I thought might’ve been amusement. Half of his face was covered with his own t-shirt, but his eyes looked less angry and his eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

I tried and failed to meet his intense grey eyes. “I’m twenty-two. Besides, you can’t be that much older than me anyway.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know how old I am?”

I looked between Nanaba and Levi in confusion. Why would I know?

Nanaba laughed. “Levi, you’re getting a big head,” she scolded. “Not everyone knows who you are.”

He rolled his eyes, looking sour. “Seems fucking like it sometimes.”

Nanaba pulled in to the hospital complex, the car bumping as it rolled over the sidewalk and curb, jolting me back and forth and making me swear as my nose throbbed. Nanaba apologized, then pulled over to park against a curb near the Emergency room entrance. “Wait here for a moment, boys,” she instructed. She opened the door and climbed out. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded, watching her enter the building. It didn’t occur to me at first, but after hearing him sigh, I realized: I was alone with Levi.

I wasn’t scared for my life anymore, really, with his assurance (if you could call it that) that he wouldn’t kill me, but, let’s be honest, who wants to be around someone they pissed off? And just because Levi said he wouldn’t kill me doesn’t mean he won’t seriously maim or injure.

“You’re the New Media Manager, then?” Levi interrupted my train of thought ( _Maybe I’d have to crawl back to Mikasa for help... No, wait, I’m already outside a hospital. Huh, how convenient_ ). He was leaning back against the seat, his head thrown back, peeking at me out of the corner of one eye.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My brain-to-mouth filter was poor at the best of times, and I doubted Levi would appreciate whatever came out of my mouth if I opened it this time. 

“Hmm.” I waited for the inevitable _‘not for long’_ or _‘not if I have anything to say about it’_ but it didn’t come. Instead, Levi chuckled. He actually laughed. “This may be fucking stupid, but even though you haven’t done shit yet, may be a complete fuckup, and broke my nose, you’re still looking better than the old guy.”

"Huh," I said stupidly, thrown by the random comment. I was relieved that it didn't look like I was getting fired, though, but maybe he was just lulling me into a false sense of security. Besides, Levi complimenting someone?

“That guy was a fucking moronic dipshit, though, so that’s not saying much.”

Of course he couldn’t just leave it, could he?

“If it makes anything better, though, you’re hotter.”

I whipped my head around to stare at him, and I could feel the burn in my cheeks and ears that meant I was blushing furiously. I always hated how easily my blush gave away my emotions. He didn’t react and kept his eyes closed, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards. It was a joke, I realized. He’s fucking with me. Asshole. I rolled and looked away. "I'm flattered," I said snarkily. "But I'm into tall guys, so..." 

"Hey," Levi said in a deadly voice, whipping around to glare at me. It was the first time he seeme openly angry.  _That must be a sore spot for him._ The thought of it amused me. 

I raised my hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry."

The rest of the wait — ten minutes or so — was spent in awkward silence. I didn’t say anything and neither did Levi, but I was painfully aware of his presence. His comment had thrown me off balance: at first I was certain of where we stood in regards to each other (he hated me, and I’d avoid him like the plague for the rest of the tour if my employment somehow miraculously managed to survive). Now, I wasn’t so sure, and it unsettled me. Is he messing with me? Am I a potential fuck to him?

I rolled my eyes and shook my head sharply. I wasn’t about to preoccupy myself with whatever Levi thought of me. I wasn’t about to go falling into his bed, anyway, regardless of whether or not he was interested. Come on, he’d just punched me in the face. I may have a masochistic side, but I’m not that desperate.

It wouldn’t do me any good to think about it. Forcibly derailing my train of thought, I looked around for Nanaba, who’d — at this point — been gone for about twenty minutes. Levi looked asleep, but I had trouble believing it. Was it really possible to fall asleep in twenty minutes? It took me at least an hour every night and —

My mental rambling was cut off as Nanaba opened Levi’s door. His eyes snapped open immediately, so either he was a really light sleeper or I was right and he hadn’t really been sleeping. “Let’s go,” Nanaba instructed. “We’re going through a side door and heading right to see a doctor so we can get you in-and-out as efficiently as possible.”

Levi nodded, starting out of the car before hesitating, looking down at himself, then turning to glance at me. I shot him a questioning, fearful look. He just rolled his eyes and snatched something off my head, making me flinch. He slid my Ray-Bans on his face, hissing when they touched his nose. “Thanks for letting me borrow these,” he said carelessly, stepping out of the car. I touched my head, only now aware that the Ray-Bans had been there now that I no longer felt their presence. Honestly, throughout the whole incident, I’d forgotten that I’d put them on my head. It was a miracle they hadn't fallen off. 

I followed behind Levi and Nanaba, keeping silent. It was a short walk to the side entrance, but it felt like a marathon since every step jarred my nose and made my face throb. At some point, I had developed a piercing headache. I was good with pain, but I wasn’t this good. My eyes began to water. Dammit. Great. Now I’m fucking crying.

The room we were treated in was small, and it barely had enough space for the three of us. Nanaba stayed with us until the doctor arrived, then went into the hallway to make space.

“Alright, so I hear we’ve got two broken noses?” the doctor said kindly, pulling a pen from the holder in the clipboard. She turned to look at the two of us, her dark eyes raking over our faces. “Let me take a look.”

She approached Levi first, her hands reaching out to grab his face. She poked at his nose, and he hissed angrily. She hummed thoughtfully, pulling his bleached hair back from his forehead. My eyes widened — I hadn’t realized that the door had hit his head as well as his nose, and from the looks of it, the door had hit _hard_ , if the black spot in the middle of his forehead was anything to go by. “Wow,” the nurse said. “That’s quite a bruise you got there.” Levi huffed, pulling his hair back over his forehead. “We’ll have to test to see if you have a concussion.”

She turned to me, eyeing my nose warily before reaching out a hand to poke at it. A single touch and I was leaning away swearing. “Okay, your nose is definitely broken. You’ve got some nice shiners, there, too.” She grimaced apologetically before reaching out to feel my nose again. I gasped in pain, my eyes beginning to water. “Have you had any pain medication?”

“Doh,” I answered, my voice nasal from the sudden onslaught of pain.

She wheeled her chair to the cabinets and grabbed a bottle. She pulled out two tablets and filled a miniature plastic cup with water from the sink, then wheeled back over and handed it all to me.

“He gets pain meds and I don’t?” Levi muttered sarcastically as I threw them back.

The doctor heard him anyway and shook her head, repeating the process. “Your nose doesn’t look broken to me. Of course, the nose is comprised of many, many tiny bones, so there could be a break that we don’t know about that will just have to heal on its own.” She turned to me. “You on the other hand... your nose is definitely broken. You have some displacement, also, so I'll have to reset it for you.”

“Okay,” I said easily. I'd had my nose broken a good five or six times, so I was used to this by now. Besides, when she reset it, I'd get a shit ton of pain medication and the area would be numbed, which I was really looking forward to. 

The doctor smiled at me hesitantly, probably a bit confused over my calmness. She ripped open a package containing what looked like a wipe before reaching out and rubbing my nose with it. I stayed still, but my eyes watered again. A tear dripped out of one, and I quickly wiped it away.

“That’ll numb it a bit for you,” she explained. “Let’s give that a minute to kick in and I can give you a shot of local anesthesia, then I’ll reset your nose for you.”

She turned back to Levi, pulling a small laser pointer out a drawer. Instead of using the red pointer, she used the light, flashing into both his eyes. “Do you feel dizzy or nauseous at all?” she asked.

“Not really,” Levi muttered.

"No light or sound sensitivity? Headache? Blurry or double vision? Trouble balancing? Grogginess?" Levi's response was the same for all of them. The doctor nodded. “Alright, it looks like you’re all okay. No concussion. That’s good, right?”

Levi stared at her until her smile faded. I cleared my throat.

The doctor, relieved to break the tense standoff, turned to me, brandishing a small needle way to enthusiastically than the situation merited. “Oh, right, let’s set your nose.”

 

* * *

 

I didn't feel it when the nose was reset, but it was still far from an enjoyable experience. I gritted my teeth and swore a couple times, leaning forward and setting my elbows on my knees until the throbbing I heard from my face receded slightly. 

Levi watched in a deadpan, and I may or may not have sworn at him a couple of times. Honestly, he got away with just a fucking bruise, while I’m stuck with a full-out broken nose? Fuck him.

 _“Your first broken nose?”_ he asked later. If I hadn’t know any better, I’d think he’d sounded apologetic. But I did know better, and the reality was that Levi was an asshole, and the chances of him actually expressing remorse for punching me in the face were slim to none.

I laughed bitterly. _“Not even fucking close,”_ I had retorted. _“But congratu-fucking-lations, you hit the hardest so far.”_

Levi had smirked.

 _“That’s not anything to be proud of, you buttcrack!_ ”I’d snapped.

Mikasa had been furious, that much was expected, when she saw Levi with a little strip of gauze on his nose while I had a full splint, each nostril stuffed with gauze. I had a bottle of ibuprofen and a chilling ice pack clutched lovingly to my chest. She'd yelled at Levi for ten minutes straight before Armin and Nanaba finally got her to back off. That and her voice was starting to go hoarse. 

Word had already spread of the incident, and it took all of my self-control to hold back from punching Jean in the face when he’d laughed about it. It was easier than it normally would’ve been, since I knew the pain of being hit and wouldn’t wish that upon anyone unless I really hated them.

Best of all, though, was that I hadn’t been fired. I nearly jumped for joy when Mikasa told me that I wasn’t in any trouble, and if it wasn’t for the throbbing in my face, I probably would have done a victory lap around the circle of vans and buses.

I spent the rest of the day dozing on and off in the stupid camper, taking as much pain medication as possible. It wasn’t the worst way to spent the day — Jean, Ymir, Sasha, and Connie spent the day moving heavy amps and speakers, so laying around was nice, and I got caught up on the latest _Orange is the New Black_  — but it got boring quickly.

At one point just after I’d eaten dinner (a peanut and butter sandwich, courtesy of Mikasa. She’d said it was a relatively high-class meal compared to others we’d have to resort to on the tour, and I’d stared at her in disbelief. She just said, ‘you’ll see’ mysteriously and left me to my own devices), Levi barged in.

“Oi, shitface,” he said as a greeting. He tossed my Ray-Bans onto my lap. 

I rolled my eyes. “Hello to you two, Levi. How’s your nose doing? Oh, no, wait — it’s doing fucking fine.”

My nose gave a nasty throb, as if it were reminding me of the sheer injustice of it all.

“Don’t be a pussy,” he said. “Nanaba sent me in to talk to you about the excuse for my face.”

I sat up and closed the Netlfix app on my tablet. “Look, I’m honored at all, but why are you talking to me about it? Isn’t Armin PR?”

Levi sighed in annoyance. “Yes, but in order for news to get out before the concert, we’ll need to use social media. Now just tell them Hanji hit me with her guitar again.”

“Again,” I repeated. “Okay.”

He nodded. “So take a picture.”

I looked at him dubiously. “Of just you standing there?” I shook my head. _I am a fucking artist. I will not deal with this shit._ “Uh, no. At least get Hanji to be in the picture.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

His obedience surprised me, before I realized that technically, by order of contract, he was technically under my management. _Ha, I could use this… For what, stupid?_

It had only seemed like seconds after Levi left when the door burst open again, but this time a person with a crazy expression in their eyes, a somewhat disheveled ponytail of brown hair, and a guitar ran in. They came to a stop in front of me, their eyes shining. “You must be Eren!” they cried, sticking a hand out right under my chin. “I’m Hanji, guitarist extraordinaire —”

“— and resident nut job,” Levi interrupted, entering much more calmly than his bandmate.

“I brought my guitar for the picture!” they exclaimed brightly, nearly clocking me in the chin with it as they whipped it around for me to look at. “I even added some bloodstains made of ketchup!”

“Uh... great work, Hanji,” I said weakly, overwhelmed. Now, I understood exactly what Armin meant when he told me about them. 

“Yeah, yeah, fucking fantastic,” Levi snapped. “Can we just take the damn picture and get this over with?”

I took multiple, with Levi’s face remaining as impassive and stoic as ever and Hanji making a pouty face and holding the guitar between them.

“Alright, thank you,” I said, dismissing them. Hanji seemed to want to stay, but Levi thankfully dragged them out.

I huffed and turned back to my tablet, opening Legion’s Twitter and began composing a tweet. My last one had been given a thumbs up by my superiors, so, while I was still a bit hesitant and nervous, I was more confident this time. _Never go near Hanji when they’re playing... #lessonlearned_ , I typed. Happy with this, I added the best picture and hit the post button. Comments started to pour in from fans who were worried about Levi, asking if he was okay. He’s fine, I wanted to grumble. Of course he is, while I’m like this.

My life sucks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please tell me how I did! This chapter turned out to be more of a filler, but I hoped to show some of the interactions between Eren and Levi after "the incident". Next chapter will get going on the plot more and will (if all goes according to plan) include the first concert!!


	3. i thought i knew what weird was but i was wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to us, stuck it out this far together
> 
> -'Here's to Us' by Halestorm

I spent the rest of the day resting, and spent the night wedged into the one bed between Mikasa and the wall. It was hot and sweaty, and Mikasa’s elbow dug into my ribs for the majority of the night. I couldn’t get away from it, even when I pressed myself flat against the wall. I gave up soon after.

The throbbing in my face and uncomfortable position, coupled with the heat and humidity, kept me up late into the night — or early in the morning. I was barely able to get two or three hours of restless sleep in before I was roughly shaken awake. From the small skylight, I could see that the sun had just barely risen. It was way too early to be awake, but I had to suck it up and get used to it if I wanted to do well at this job.

I was fortunate that the black eyes that resulted from my broken nose would hide any dark circles that would appear under my eyes from fatigue. One plus in a fucking sea of downers.

“Eren,” Mikasa said. My entire body was shaking back and forth, my head flopping forward on my chest then back. It was only the pain in my nose from being jolted that got me to wake up to shove my sister away.

“Fucking shit — What, Mikasa?” I demanded, drowsiness making me slur my speech.

She rolled her eyes, and I was suddenly struck by the realization of how similar Mikasa was to Levi. “You're going to be late. You have a meeting with Nanaba and Pixis — Legion’s manager — in ten minutes, remember?”

“Ugh, fuck," I mumbled, rubbing sleep out of my eyes and stumbling to my feet. I looked around for Armin, suddenly realizing that he’d been strangely silent, but I didn’t see him and concluded that he must’ve already left. "Am I getting yelled at for yesterday?"

Mikasa shrugged. “I think they’ll be going more in-depth on your responsibilities and give you more information about the tour. You’re one of only four newbies to Legion’s tour crew, and the other three are all bodyguards. So it's only you that needs to meet with the management today."

I made a noise to show that I’d heard. I reached over to the kitchen counter, which was right next to the bed, to grab the tablet I’d lain there last night. I flipped through Legion’s Instagram first, which was pretty quiet, since I hadn’t posted there yet. The same went for their Facebook and Tumblr accounts. Legion’s Twitter, on the other hand, was a flurry of activity. Many people were concerned about Levi, while others — a lot of people, actually — had guessed that the blood was fake. Both of the hashtags ‘#levisface’ and ‘#notblood’ were trending.

I rubbed my eyes and composed a series of tweets.

_Someone has to tell Hanji that ketchup doesn’t really work as fake blood #busted #notblood #levisface_

_Hanji thought blood would make the picture more interesting... don’t encourage them or they’ll use real blood next time. Probably their own. #notblood #levisface_

_Thank you all for the concern! Levi is fine, no broken nose or concussion, and he’ll be in perfect condition for Legion’s first show! Can’t wait to see you all! #levisface #letsgolegion_

Satisfied enough with what I’d posted (Well, maybe not satisfied, but I wasn’t shaking with terror, so I called it a win), I stumbled to my feet, groaning when vertigo caused my head to spin.

“Stood up too fast,” I said to placate Mikasa, who looked over in concern when she’d heard my moan. Regardless, I popped two tablets of pain reliever in my mouth, swallowing them dry.  

I decided to forego a shower. Mikasa and Armin had warned me that the showers would be scare on tour, and that, while it would smell like Satan’s armpit for a while, everybody would get used to everybody else’s stink — and their own. Besides, our camper only had a single toilet in the tiny bathroom, and a shower would mean either a sponge bath out of the kitchen sink or running over to Jean and Marco's or Ymir and Historia's campers. I didn't want to bother any of them, and I wasn't desperate enough (yet) for a sponge bath.

Instead, I went to my bench and flipped up the cushion, pulling out some clothing for the day: a pair of dark skinny jeans, combat boots, and a sleeveless red flannel. I dressed hurriedly, trying to keep some modesty when my sister was in the room. She wasn’t paying much attention, but I still didn’t want to make a spectacle of myself (something I seemed to be very good at lately).  

I grabbed my toothbrush and headed over to the kitchen sink. “What’re you gonna be doing all day?” I asked Mikasa through a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

Mikasa looked up from her black case full of makeup. It was about the size of a mini fridge, containing more products than a person could use in their entire life. It was different for performers, though. As Legion’s official makeup artist, Mikasa had to have products for all five members, products for all sorts of situations — concerts, meet-and-greets, photoshoots, everyday life, morning-afters, hangovers, and more — and products for all different styles. It looked like a tough job, especially considering who she had to deal with, but Mikasa was a prodigy. She’d gotten hired right out of high school after the Recon Corporation had seen her portfolio.

Mikasa tilted her head, but her expression didn’t change at all. The first time I met her, Mikasa’s stoicism scared the shit out of me, but I was used to it now. Still, it was creepy as fuck.  “Not too much,” she answered. “I have a meeting with Historia and Marco later, and I need to do the band’s makeup for a meet-and-greet.”

“What do Historia and Marco do again?” I asked. I spit my toothpaste out and ducked my head under the tap to drink, rinsing and spitting again.

Mikasa sighed. “Haven’t Armin and I already told you this?” When I just stared at her blankly, she continued, “Historia is the band’s stylist and Marco is the scenographer. To dumb that down for you, Marco’s designs the stage. We have to coordinate so that all parts of the band’s appearance fit together.”

I nodded. I pulled a snapback on of my basketball team, the Chicago Bulls, and stuffed a breakfast bar into my mouth. I swallowed it in three bites, cringing at the flavor. “Eugh, goddammit. Peach flavor,” I muttered. I discarded the wrapper on my way to the door. “Alright, I’m heading out now. I’ll see you later.”

Mikasa didn’t look up from her makeup case, just waved a hand absentmindedly in my direction and called, "Try not to get into any trouble today."

I didn't answer. I’d tell her that I wouldn’t, but knowing my luck, I have no chance of keeping that promise. I’m cursed.

 

* * *

 

I tucked my tablet under my arm to wiggle a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I pulled one out and stuck it between my lips, then reached back into my pocket to exchange the cigarette packet for my keys. I lit my cigarette with the small keychain lighter, exhaling in relief.

I pulled my tablet back out from under my arm, unlocking it and scrolling through my email. According to a late-night message from Nanaba, I was to meet her and Pixis at the band's tour bus.

All of the vans were in a big semicircle, so I could already see Nanaba with another man whom I supposed was Pixis standing in front of the big black tour bus. I put out my cigarette and dropped it in a trash can. It probably wasn’t too professional to be smoking during a meeting with your bosses. It was a bit pointless to smoke for barely a minute, but I could already feel the effects of the cigarette settling beneath my skin and the relaxation sinking in.

Nanaba and Pixis caught sight of me as I approached and waved. They were way too awake for seven o’clock in the morning.

“Eren,” Nanaba greeted warmly. She put a hand on my chin and leaned in, looking at my bruised face critically. I held my breath so that I wouldn’t breathe the cigarette fumes into her face. “It looks worse, honestly.” she said brutally. “But that’s normal, you only start to really turn blue and purple a couple days or so after an injury. How are you feeling?”

I shrugged. “A bit sore, but I’ve taken some pain meds, and it’s better than it was.” That was a lie. After the initial shock of the injury wore off and I lost the post-injury numbness, I was really feeling the pain in my face. I wasn’t about to tell anyone that, though. Besides, I’d been punched in the face way too many times before, and I was used to the type of pain. Still, head shots and nose hits hurt like a bitch.

The man next to Nanaba, Pixis, laughed good naturedly. The crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deepened. “You sure caused a commotion, kid,” he said, his voice youthful despite his age -- how old was he, anyway? If I had to guess, I’d say fifties to sixties, but I knew enough about touring to know that it wasn’t an ideal lifestyle that someone would want for their whole life. Even the band members tired of it. In a strange, warped way, I respected the guy for sticking it out so long. “Good thing Levi felt bad about punching you back, or else we may have been forced to look for another New Media Manager.”

I could feel my face subconsciously screwing up in confusion. “He felt bad?” I asked skeptically. None of his actions had indicated that he felt any remorse whatsoever, but, then again, what did I know? I'd known him for all of twenty-four hours. 

Pixis laughed. “Eh, well, Levi’s always had a very confusing way of showing his feelings.” He grinned brightly. “I’m Dot Pixis, by the way, the head manager for Legion, and you already know Nanaba.”

“Eren Jaeger, but you already knew that.”

“We asked for you to come out here so that we could introduce you to the rest of the band. We think that getting to know each member personally will help you to successfully use their voice in your posts.”

I nodded, eyeing the black tour bus. The blacked-out windows gave no indication of what was inside, but I feared the worst. Nanaba looked at me knowingly as she led the way to the folding door, but didn’t say anything. Her light eyes sparkled with mirth. With her in front of me and Pixis behind, it kind of felt like I was being escorted into a prison. Been there, done that. My claustrophobia started to kick in and I started to panic.

As soon as the doors opened,  music, yelling, and beeping spilled out of the bus, along with the distinctive smell of weed. I clapped my hands over my ears and jumped backwards in shock, crashing against Pixis’ chest. The older man steadied me with a hand on each of my shoulders. “It’s a bit of a culture shock,” he joked, bending over next to my ear to be heard over the din. “They’re all bark, though — harmless. Nothing to worry about, kid.”

Feeling a bit like a death row prisoner on my way to the electric chair, I followed Nanaba into the bus.

 

* * *

 

Long story short: it wasn’t anything like I expected.

The bus was nice— really really nice. It had a full kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances (and a framed notice on the wall reading _HANJI ZOE IS NOT ALLOWED TO COOK_ ). Leather couches lined both sides. A bar-style table was on the opposite side of the kitchen, against a wall that I assumed enclosed the bathroom. There was a flat screen attached to one wall, with a full speaker system.

It was by far the nicest place I’d ever seen, but a bit of a mess. Band posters, mostly Legion’s, were plastered over all available surfaces. It smelled a bit like leather, booze, smoke, and weed. Liquor bottles and post-its were found in the strangest places — an empty bottle of rum was nestled in between a curtain rod and a window, and post its could be found along the walls, behind the television, even under tables. I caught sight of a few as we entered and concluded that they all had the same messy scrawl on them, but I couldn’t make out what it read.

Nanaba and Pixis lead the way into the bus, which had enough room to accommodate the three of us comfortably. They headed over to two men lounging on the couch, both tall, muscular blondes.

The one on the right had an undercut with long light blond hair tousled gently, like he’d just woken up. He had bone structure that would make a skeleton jealous, a sharp nose and prominent cheekbones with a strong, square jaw. Dark blue eyes were smudged with residual eyeliner and glittered intelligently as he scanned the latest issue of Rolling Stone, which included a piece about Legion’s upcoming tour.

The other blond was the one listening to the music, and when he saw us enter, he lifted the remote from his lap and turned it down. My ears started ringing from the sudden silence. This blond had longer hair tied back in a man bun. He had an aquiline nose, with narrow olive green eyes and a scruffy beard. A laptop rested on his lap and some sort of blunt, probably marijuana from the smell of it, rested between his teeth. No one seemed surprised or concerned at the drugs. 

“Got anything good, Mike?” Pixis asked. I looked over at the old man, alarmed, thinking he was talking about the drugs. Then I remembered that Mike was a composer, which was what Pixis had probably been referring to. 

The blonde with the laptop (who I now concluded was Mike) exhaled sharply through his nose. “No.” He placed his pointer fingers on his temples and rubbed.

“Good, you can take a break then,” Pixis said, catching me off guard. It wasn’t what I had expected a manager to say.

Mike didn’t react, so I guessed this was normal for him. He slid the laptop of his lap and to the side, sitting up at attention. To his right, the other blond did the same, dog-earing his magazine before tossing it to the floor. Another hot pink post-it was slapped to the front, covering up the cover model’s face. I didn’t recognize them, whoever they were.

“This is Eren,” Nanaba introduced, stepping aside so that the two could see me. “Your New Media manager. Eren, this is Mike Zacharias, bass guitarist, and Erwin Smith, rhythmic guitarist.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said politely.

The two exchanged glances, looking like they were trying not to laugh. “You’re the one that hit Levi in the face?”

I huffed, scowling. “It was an accident.”

They really did laugh now.

“Yeah? You must have really shitty luck,” Erwin said.

I rolled my eyes. “Apparently.” I looked enviously at Mike, who had just replaced the blunt with a cigarette and lit up, breathing out smoke. My thirty-second cigarette break hadn’t been enough, apparently.

“We’re on a tight schedule, so let’s go find Petra. You’ve already met Levi and Hanji, so she’s the last one,” Nanaba explained, leading deeper into the tour bus.

I nearly tripped over Levi: the drummer was on all fours on the floor with a spray bottle full of carpet cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other. Hanji lurked over his shoulder, looking guilty.

“Goddammit, Hanji!” Levi shouted. His yell was the only reason I noticed him, stopping just in time before I tripped over him. “What’ve I told you?”

“No vodka before six,” Hanji replied sullenly. They made a face and mumbled sarcastically, “Bad Hanji. Bad.” They brightened when they saw me sandwiched in between the other two managers. “Oh, hey, Eren!”

I greeted them back as warmly as I could so early in the morning, wondering if I should greet Levi as well. I did, but I only got a grunt in return. Levi was preoccupied with trying to remove some mystery stains from the carpet. The spilled liquid wasn't vodka, judging by the smell and consistency, and I didn't really want to think too hard about it. 

“How did the ketchup work?” Hanji asked eagerly. 

I snorted. “It didn’t.”

Hanji shrugged. “Oh well.” They turned to address Nanaba. “Petra’s in back. She's probably on Tumblr or something.”

“When is she not?” Nanaba sighed.

We found Petra in back laying in a bunk in fetal position, head on a unicorn pillow pet and arms tucked in a matching purple snuggie. I thought she was asleep until I caught sight of the light of her phone.The singer was probably reblogging more cat pictures. In the midst of the loud rock music, gory rock band posters, and alcohol, she looked very out of place with her cherubic face, light pink hair, and petite figure. When she sat up, I realized that she was wearing  pajamas covered with stars and pegasi.

“Hello,” she greeted. “I’m totally doing what I’m supposed to be. Yep.”

Nanaba sighed. “Eren, this is Petra. Petra, Eren will be your New Media Manager.”

Petra’s hazel eyes brightened. “Are you on Tumblr? I’m like five followers away from a hundred thousand.”

“Uh...” I didn’t bother telling her that I’d already amassed a following of twice that number.

Petra shook her head. “Sorry, sorry, that’s not important right now. I look forward to working with you, Eren!” 

“You too,” I answered, patting myself on the back for coming up with something that actually made sense and for making sure that what came out of my mouth was actually what I meant to say. I’d had problems with that in the past, and it usually ended with blood and bruises.

Petra hesitated, looking over at Nanaba like a child about to do something naughty. "Follow me on Tumblr!" 

“Okay, then,” Nanaba interrupted. I was grateful for her intervention. “Now that you’ve met everyone, Eren, we should be going. Today’s going to be hell.”

I didn’t doubt it. I nodded my agreement, wishing a half-hearted goodbye to four of the five eccentric members of Legion before following Nanaba and Pixis out of the bus. The stench of alcohol, weed, and leather stuck to my clothes. Shit, that smelled terrible.

“They’re a bit much to handle, but hopefully they won’t give you too much trouble,” Nanaba reassured me. “Erwin does pretty well keeping them all in line. Of course, that doesn’t help all of the time, so...”

I read between the lines. They’re all shit to deal with but you get used to it.

Fucking great.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think. I love to hear all feedback and it encourages me to update sooner! Sorry for the small wait on this chapter, but it was a bitch to write... let me know if you see any mistakes because i'm editing myself but i'll definitely miss some stuff.


	4. i try my best to prove i'm not useless but i'm fighting a losing battle aren't i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't try to take this from me now. 
> 
> -'Now' by Paramore

“So, have you met the freaks yet?”

For his rudeness, Jean Kirstein was hit in the back of the head by Marco Bott. He turned to his longtime boyfriend with a look of betrayal, but looked sheepish under Marco’s disapproving glare.

I made a whip noise, and dodged when Jean immediately threw a weak punch at my face. “Whoa, whoa, fucking hell, man!” I cried. “Broken nose!”

Jean rolled his eyes, pulling up the sleeves to his sweatshirt. “Whatever, Jaeger. Let’s get these amps moved, yeah?”

“I need them stacked on each side of the stage,” Marco spoke up. “We’ll position them later, just leave them there for now.”  

I squatted on one side of the large piece of equipment, Jean doing the same on the other side. With  a heave, we lifted the amp a foot off the ground and onto the wheeled cart.

After meeting Legion, I was pretty much free for the rest of the day, so I decided to help out wherever I could. From how the band (Levi excluded), Nanaba, and Pixis had acted, I didn’t think they were too angry over the whole incident, but I was eager to make up for the fiasco in any way I could and give them a reason to keep me around by being useful. Marco had roped Jean, Ymir, and I into moving amps from the trucks onto wheeled carts to be moved to the stage. Jean and Ymir were both sound technicians, so they were responsible for setting up all the equipment, but I hung around as extra muscle.

“I’m gonna throw my fucking back out,” I joked. “But at least I’ll be ripped as hell.”

Jean snorts in amusement. “Sure, toothpick.” He grins, though, so I know he’s joking. “So, like I said, have you met Legion yet?” Jean repeated.

My answer is obvious in the look I give him. He immediately bursts into laughter. “That’s a yes, then.”

“Shit, I don’t even know where to start, man,” I said. Jean and I lifted the final amp together, and he began to push the cart towards the venue. I walked alongside to ensure that none of the amps fell off. I stuck another cigarette between my teeth, finally getting a chance to get my cigarette fix I’d missed that morning, and lit it, sighing deep when the nicotine sunk into my body. “Like, Mike and Erwin are normal enough, yeah, but Hanji’s batshit insane, Petra’s a little girl, and don’t even get me started on Levi.”

Jean laughed. “You get used to it.”

I pictured Levi’s deadly glare and shuddered. How did anyone ever get used to that? I had gotten used to Mikasa’s stare, but Levi’s was on another level. Mikasa’s looked like it would kill you on the spot, but Levi’s looked like it would wipe out every one of your particles right from existence.

Jean laughed again at my reaction, and if he had not been pushing a cart loaded with ten thousand dollars worth of equipment, I would've slugged him in the shoulder.

I used to be shit at self-control, but now I could proudly say that I hadn’t punched anyone in a month or so. In the beginning of my ‘Help-Eren-learn-self-control’ phase, Mikasa had even kept a chart, so I knew that a month was the longest I’d gone without inflicting injury on anyone. I was proud of myself, even if my pride was a bit pathetic. But, hey, I wasn’t in jail for assault.

We walked in awkward silence after that. Jean and I were no means enemies, but we weren’t friends either. The first time we’d met had resulted in a broken nose, two busted ribs, six broken fingers, and a concussion, and we’d had an antagonistic relationship at best after that. At Mikasa and Armin’s urging, though, we were able to establish a tense acquaintanceship. Our relationship was cordial at best, and tense at worst, but there hadn't been a fight since October.

It was almost a relief when they reached the venue and the time left empty by my social awkwardness was filled with grunts and heavy breaths as Jean and I heaved each of the hundred-pound amps off of the cart and onto the stage, stacked into a pile where Marco had asked for them to be.

“This gets easier, right?” I asked, my breath coming in harsh gasps as I wiped my forehead. I pulled my snapback off and pushed my hair back, before replacing the hat backwards this time.

Jean shrugged. He plopped down on the cart and leaned back, massaging his shoulders. I was happy to see that he was sweating just as much as I was. “Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t toured in a year, so I’m out of shape, but I remember it being easier than this.”

“You’re just getting old, horseface,” I joked.

Jean made a noise of outrage, jumping to his feet and sending the cart skittering backwards. “You’re older than me, you asswad!”

“Older in age, not in spirit,” I said pretentiously, batting my eyelashes.

“Oh, fuck you, you dick.”  

I was about to chime in with a ‘That’s what she said’ or some equally witty comeback that didn’t make much sense and I probably would’ve ended up having to explain (which completely ruins the joke) when my phone rang in my back pocket.

“Dude, Kanye West? Really?” Jean asked derisively. “And not even his good stuff?”

I paused, my thumb hovering over the green ‘answer’ button. “I’m sorry, are you implying that _Through the Wire_ is shit? Because that’s not something I can fucking forgive you for.”

Jean made a ‘really?’ face, before rolling his eyes and letting the topic slide. I was grateful, because one more dig at Yeezus and my one-month streak of nonviolence would come to an end.

I nodded, satisfied with his (somewhat questionable) surrender, and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Eren, great!” Nanaba greeted. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

My gut dropped. “Eh? Am I in trouble or something?” I’d already been introduced to the band, and I was already told I wasn’t in trouble for the incident, right?

“No, no!” Nanaba hurried to reassure me. “You’re not getting fired, Eren, relax; all is forgiven.”

I laughed weakly. “Ah, aha, good,” I said lamely.

“No, we were hoping you could come to a fan meet-and-greet taking place today. Take some pictures; get a sense of the fanbase; see what the band does? It’s an opportunity for you to understand the dynamic of the band-fanbase relationship so that you’ll have a better idea of how and what to post.”

“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Okay. Should I grab my camera?”

“Hmmm.” Nanaba considered my question. “Yeah, why not? I’m not sure if we’ll use the pictures in many places, but using a good device won’t hurt.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “When do I need to be ready?”

Nanaba cleared her throat. “That’s the thing. We had trouble finding you, so we need to leave right about now. You'll be riding in the tour bus with the band, okay? Mikasa's doing their makeup in there, and we need her to conceal some of your bruises so nobody accuses us of abusing our employees," she joked.

I was happy when I didn't react with dread and panic at the thought of spending time around a certain blond drummer. Then, I realized that the first thing I’d thought of was Levi. I held in a noise of frustration. Fucking shit. Instead, I said, “Alright. I’m at the stage, and I have to run to my truck for my camera, so I’ll be over in a minute or two.”

“Sounds good, Eren, just hurry!”

“Got it!”

I hung up, hurriedly explaining the situation to Jean before jogging out of the stage. I got caught up at a crosswalk, and other pedestrians shot me annoyed looks when I bounced on the balls of my feet and sighed heavily. They looked downright murderous when I elbowed past for the space to break into a run.

I arrived at the camper quickly, nearly throwing my couch cushion off the bench before reaching in and grabbing my camera, slinging the strap of the case across my body and over my shoulder. As an afterthought, I grabbed my tablet too, tucking it under my arm so that I would be sure not to drop it. As I left, I nearly tripped, trying to hurry and not expecting the drop, but I recovered by breaking into a run. When I got to the bus, I was nearly out of breath.

“Great, you made it!” Nanaba cheered, escorting me in.

The band was already there, sitting on the long couches. Mikasa was struggling to get Hanji to sit still so she could finish their makeup. Erwin, Mike, and Petra were already finished, and Levi looked bored as he waited for his turn. Erwin, Hanji and Petra greeted me cordially and Mike and Mikasa nodded stoically. Levi eyed me expressionlessly and said nothing. I didn’t expect him to.

I was surprised to see Armin there, who waved at me silently. I walked over and sat down next to him and some man I didn’t recognize. He had short blonde hair and a patchy blonde mustache, with pale skin tinged green where it was thin enough for veins to show through.

“You must be Eren,” he said boisterously. “I’m Hannes, head of security.”

I tried for a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He seemed undeterred. I decided that he seemed okay, but I liked anyone that wasn’t immediately put off by my ‘bright’ and ‘sunny’ personality. “I’ve got three others under than me, which isn’t a lot, but they’re the best we’ve got, so they should be enough. They’re following us in a van, just for the sake of space. They’re all pretty reclusive, too.”

I nodded and smiled, making a noise of interest. It fell flat, but Hannes didn’t seem to notice. Someone snorted, and I looked over to meet steel eyes. Obviously, Levi hadn’t been fooled. I made a face and turned back to Hannes, who hadn’t realized I was no longer paying attention and had gone on about his three prodigal bodyguards, somehow diverging into his career highlights.

That continued for about a half hour before Mikasa arrived to save me, getting right to work at covering up my broken nose and black eyes. It wasn’t easy since the bruises were so dark and since she couldn’t actually touch my face, but she did a decent job. The black eyes were concealed so well that it just looked like I was somewhat tired (which I was), and my nose looked like it had been a week since it’d been broken. That was okay, since I still had to wear the splint anyway.

“Alright, people,” Pixis said, calling everyone to attention. “Unless you’re an idiot you know that we are en route to a meet-and-greet, which will be taking place at a local record shop. The event will last for two and a half hours. After that, we’ll go back to the venue and it’ll be time for soundcheck!”

I frowned. I was pretty sure that the concert was scheduled for that night. Was it possible to get so much done – the meet-and-greet, set-up, makeup and dressing, and soundcheck were only a few unticked boxes on a mile-long ‘to-do’ list – in just one night? I doubted it, but stayed quiet. It wasn’t my responsibility.

Speaking of my responsibility, I turned to the camera case I’d placed in my lap, unzipping it carefully and pulling out my baby. I’d named her Esther, to the scorn and derision of Mikasa and Armin. I didn’t care though, Esther was precious to me. I had paid an arm and a leg for the camera, and I treated it as if it were my firstborn. I slipped the strap around my neck, flattening it where it folded over. I popped the lens cap off and wiped the lens with a special-made rag, inspecting it to make sure there weren’t any scratches or dust particles that could interfere with a good picture.

“Oooh, Eren, what’s that?” Hanji flopped in between Hannes and me, landing halfway on each of our laps. I slid over to give them room, discreetly pulling Esther out of their reach. I didn’t want to be rude, but their hands were visibly caked with… Something. I didn’t want to know, honestly.

I didn’t answer, assuming that Hanji knew what a camera was. When they looked at me with their brown eyes wide and expectant, I raised an eyebrow. “… A camera?” I answered dumbly.

“Can I see it?” Hanji squealed, leaning over me to reach Esther. I pulled it out of reach on reflex. My rudeness was hidden by Hanji, who jumped up and snatched the air around me to reach it.

While they were flailing their arms, their elbow bumped my nose. My already broken nose. This just fucking proves it. My luck is fucking shit. The hit wasn’t hard, honestly, but hard enough to make me swear up a storm and make my eyes water. Luckily, they stopped trying to reach my precious camera. Unluckily, my nose might be fucking broken again.

“I’m sorry!” they cried, slipping to the floor and prostrating themselves at my feet. If I’d felt up to it, I might’ve laughed and made a joke, but I could barely breathe around the pain in my face.

Mikasa was at my side in an instant, grabbing my face in both hands and wrenching it upwards so that she could inspect the damage. “How badly does it hurt, Eren? Are you okay? Is it broken again? Is it displaced again? Do you need pain medication? Do you need a doctor? Can anyone take Eren to the ER?”

I grabbed her hands and pulled them forcefully off my face. “I’m fine,” I assured her, smiling through the pain. “It was just a bump, and the splint kept it in place. It’s fine, Mikasa, honestly. Hanji didn’t even hit me that hard.”

I probably shouldn’t have reminded Mikasa of Hanji, because my sister turned to the perpetrator, glaring fiercely, entire body tense. She looked like she was poised to strike, and if there was anything I’d learned over the past couple days, nothing good was going to come from that.

I grabbed her arm. “I’m fine, Mikasa, don’t blame them.” It would just cause trouble if I needed medical care now, and I could handle it. Like I’d said, it was just a bump, and, with a couple of ibuprofen, I’d be fine. Besides, I could handle a broken nose. I’d had worse pain, and I prided myself on my high pain tolerance. This was just humiliating, and I wanted everyone to stop staring. I knew that I was probably entitled to shed a few tears, but I still hated crying.

Mikasa eyed Hanji distrustfully, looking reluctant to back off. At the other end of the bus, which had gone silent and was watching the happenings like a soap opera (really, wasn’t Pixis supposed to be in charge? At least Nanaba? Even Hannes just sat there), Erwin stood, walking over to Hanji and pulling them off the floor by their arm. I watched his arms as he lifted, because damn, he was built. From what I’d seen of Erwin, he wasn’t my type, but he was hot, so I’d be open to negotiation.

I quickly averted my eyes when I realized that my staring was starting to get weird. I distracted myself by pulling the bottle of pain meds out of where I’d stashed them in my camera case and downing three pills dry. I made a face at the burn.

“Sorry about them,” Erwin said as I recapped the bottle. “C’mon, Hanji, what have we told you? Boundaries.”

I had to suppress a snicker. My dad had told me the same thing when he’d been alive. Erwin really was the band dad, wasn’t he? I was just glad they had someone to keep everyone in line and out of the hospital – or morgue. Especially with members like Hanji, who had no understanding of self-control, Levi, who had no understanding of wrong and right, Petra, who had no understanding of hard work, and Mike, who had no understanding of lung cancer.

The bus fell into silence, interrupted only by an occasional whisper or mutter. Most people had their phones or tablets out, tapping away silently. The quiet was a bit eerie after the previous explosion of noise.

I tucked my camera case under my seat, pushing aside an uncapped, half-empty bottle of brandy and a neon green post-it note to clear a space. I tucked my camera in between me and Armin, trusting him to keep it safe and to not move sideways and squish my baby. I set my tablet on my lap, unlocking it and opening Twitter to make sure that everything was okay.

I’d learned over my rest day yesterday that Twitter was the only social media site that all five members used regularly. Facebook was updated once or twice a week, and only Petra, Hanji, and Mike had Tumblrs, and only Petra went on regularly. I still had to take care of those sites of course, as well as the official Legion Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and MySpace accounts. Twitter, being the most used by the band, would be my prime focus to make sure that no one was posting anything they shouldn’t be.

All five members had posted since I’d last checked that morning. They had probably been forced by management, since they each posted some tweet that said some variation of how excited they were to see all their fans. I had to edit Hanji’s, for crude emojis, and Levi’s, for language, but the others were acceptable. I made a similar post on Legion’s official page: _So excited to see all of our amazing fans today! #legion #meetandgreet._ A notification alerted me that Levi had sent out a tweet, so I navigated back to see it. I snorted loudly, looking up at him in exasperation.

He met my gaze blankly, but I could tell that he was amused.

_@saytheyhanji needs to stay away from faces. @erenjaegermeister #hanjithenosekiller #thatsactuallyblood_

Attached was a picture of the scene, Hanji on the floor and Mikasa grabbing my face, luckily shielding most of me from the camera. There was a clear view of my nose, though, and I could see a trickle of blood coming from one nostril. I hadn’t noticed at the time, since my nose was numb from shock. Now, though, the feeling was starting to return, which I was struggling to ignore. I tenderly wiped the underside of my nose, but there was only a bit of blood and it had already dried. I delicately scratched at it, trying to force my eyes to stop watering because of the throbbing in my face.

In an effort to distract myself from the pain, I wondered when Levi had snapped the picture. I hadn’t noticed, but, then again, I was kind of occupied. When had he found my Twitter, too?

The pain was becoming hard to ignore, but I found another distraction when the roar of a crowd reached my ears. I swallowed another pill just to be safe, sniffing the alcohol I’d found under the seat before deciding to just dry swallow again.  

“You know the drill, folks,” Pixis announced. “Oh, right, Eren! Just stay close to someone and be sure to take some good pictures of the band, okay?”

I nodded easily, not worried much. I was pretty sure that I was no longer at risk of losing my job (unless of course I really screw up – I ignored the weird look Armin and Hannes gave me as I knocked on wood to avoid jinxing myself. Not that I was a superstitious person or anything, but I could never be too careful). I would also be off to the sidelines, easily overshadowed by the five band members, which was perfectly fine by me.

I had always been introverted and uncomfortable with attention, which was probably why I stayed at home all day on my laptop or watching Netflix. At this point, I could say that it had actually helped me in life. I wanted to scream a big fuck you to my foster mother, Susan, who said all my laying around would amount to nothing and I was a useless waste of space, but I hadn’t seen her since she’d left for Vegas with her boyfriend the day before my seventeenth birthday.

I was the last off the bus, so no one paid me any attention. I stuck close by Armin, letting him lead me through the crowd of people to a designated area for Legion’s staff. Nearby, the five members sat at a table, twirling sharpies between their fingers as they listened to Pixis rattle off some reminders: no swearing, be nice – Levi – don’t scare them, be approachable, be friendly, no mentions of drugs or alcohol, don’t hold the line up, keep it moving along, etc., etc.

I pulled my camera to my eye to focus it, aiming it at the table. I took a few test shots, but one or two could actually pass as an official photo – Hanji had noticed the camera and turned around, making a face, while the rest of her band members remained oblivious. The table was in focus, but everything else was blurred.

“Eren, Armin,” Hannes interrupted. He placed a hand on each of our shoulders and patted, causing our knees to buckle. “I just wanted to introduce you to the three new bodyguards.”

“Hi, I’m Armin, the PR for Legion,” he introduced. "I look forward to working with you." 

Feeling a bit unfriendly, I dropped my camera so that only the strap around my neck supported it, and looked up to greet the three recruits. The moment I saw them, my brain short-circuited. They looked just as stunned as I felt, and I guessed that I probably looked the same. 

_Why did the people I most wanted to forget appear just when I was starting to move on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know of any errors cuz its not edited very well... 
> 
> Thank you all for reading... please pleaseplease let me know how i'm doing. not so much levi/eren action here but the next chapter will (if all goes to plan) have a lot more. also next chapter: some of eren's backstory! I hope I made it like "suspenseful" or whatever, but... whatever, backstory next chapter. 
> 
> Oh, and I also mentioned Kanye West and Through the Wire, neither of which are "mine"... or whatever... i mean i don't have the rights to it or whatever (idk) 
> 
> please give me some feedback!!!


	5. my luck continues to get worse and no one is surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All teenagers scare the living shit out of me. They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
> 
> -'Teenagers' by My Chemical Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: mild blood and gore, mild violence (hand-to-hand fighting). Shouldn't be too bad, and if you need to skip over the first italicized part of the chapter. To get what was going on, scroll to the end notes where I summarized it for you. IDK if trigger warnings are necessary here, but i figured better safe than sorry. 
> 
> I just realized, though, that this chapter doesn't have the ereri interactions i promised... but next chapter for sure. I just didn't end up reaching that part of the plot i guess. I'm sorry (TT_TT)
> 
> IMPORTANT: EDITED 8/28

_His heartbeats were the only thing he could hear, and his opponent across from him the only thing he could see. If he had turned his focus outside of the circle spray painted on cracking and stained concrete he might have seen the crowd surrounding it, their mouths opening and shutting as they yelled support, jeers, or catcalls._

_His ribs throbbed where a knee had been planted and his nose was bleeding steadily, but he felt alive. He was sure he was smiling, which probably looked gruesome with the blood dripping into the grin._

To fight means to be strong. To be strong means to have power. To have power means to be in control of your own life. _He didn’t consciously chant the phrases he’d used as motivation to pump himself up for every fight, but at some point, they became like heartbeats, endless and rhythmic._

_He threw a punch, expecting it to be blocked. His opponent was too good to fall to a simple straight-on punch. She was his rival, another member of the same fight club. Her eyes were ice blue and cold, never showing any emotion. She and her two companions – a buff blonde and a tall sweaty Latino – were all called the Titans, and were some of the most formidable street fighters out there._

_His eyes narrowed as he concentrated, trying to predict the punches and kicks aimed at him, dodging those he could and blocking those he couldn’t, before sending back his own._

_It wasn’t like you saw in the movies, with fancy flips and kicks and kung-fu. It wasn’t like a dance, where each of them dodged and attacked like ballerinas. No, this was brutal. There were no fancy moves, just punches, elbows, knees, anything to get an advantage. Grunts were occasionally released by the two fighters as they took a hard hit or gave one of their own. Every time a punch landed, their fists would drip with the blood pooling from their split knuckles. They grappled with each other, trying to get a good hold to take the other down._

_He felt a pain in his face as a fist struck his cheekbone, and, suddenly, he was blinded in one eye, the skin above and below swollen shut due to the force. He could feel something like a tear drop from the canthus, and he guessed that it was blood.  This wasn’t good. He couldn’t see anything on his left side. He couldn’t stop any attacks he couldn’t see._

_The fight was over swiftly after that, as he was brutally slammed to the concrete, his hands around his head to protect it from hitting the hard ground. He grimaced as he felt his fingers break between the concrete and his skull, but the pain wasn’t noticeable with his head spinning so badly. Everything went fuzzy, and he had trouble focusing for a minute. When his vision, or what was left of it, was restored, the female Titan had backed off, unwrapping her hands and handing the gauze to her blond companion._

_He’d lost._

_He leaned to the side and coughed up what remained of his dinner, dyed red with blood._

Fuck. 

 

* * *

 

I stared at the three figures in front of me, and they stared back. There was a moment of shock, during which Armin looked confused and Hannes looked as if he didn’t have a fucking clue anything was wrong, smiling idiotically.

They all looked the same. Fucking hell. 

The Female Titan, with her cold ice blue eyes, blonde hair tucked into a loose bun, bangs over her face, petite figure, and her hooked nose, high cheekbones, and thin lips.

The blond was still the same, ripped as fuck. His nose and jaw were still as strong as I remember them. His slate blue eyes were squinty and sparsely lashed.

The Latino, about six and a half fucking feet tall. He had already sweat through his tank top, and I remembered how he would always sweat up a storm back then. His freckles were more pronounced now, I don’t know why. His expression was distant, even with his shock, just like it always was. I was never sure if the other man lived in the same world as the rest of us, since he always seemed like he was somewhere else. 

What was so oddly different about them though was the lack of injuries, bruises and bloodstains. I’m sure they thought the same about me.

“Guys, this is Legion’s New Media Manager, Eren Jaeger,” Hannes introduced, completely oblivious to any tension hovering over the six of us. “Eren, Armin, these are Annie Leonhardt, Reiner Braun, and Bertholdt Fubar, the new bodyguards I was telling you about.”

I kept staring until a jab in the ribs from Armin snapped me out of my shock. “Uh, right. Um, nice to meet you.” I said it as a question.

“You too,” Reiner said slowly.

Armin put a hand on my shoulder, and I realized that my entire body was tensed, primed for a fight. I forced myself to relax, despite all of my instincts telling me to be on guard. 

Hannes, happy with our “friendly” interaction, turned to the new bodyguards, effectively cutting off Armin and me from the conversation. I didn’t bother trying to listen, but from the few things I happened to pick up, I concluded that Hannes was giving them their instructions for the day. After that, I listened closely, trying to figure out a good time to talk to them. From what I heard, they would be occupied all throughout the meet-and-greet, like I would be, and were going to be busy all that night, too, working crowd control at the concert and escorting the fans with backstage passes around to see the sound check before the concert and see the band backstage after the concert. There wouldn’t be any time to talk all day, and I was frustrated.

I needed to make sure that I was safe here. If I came home (“home” in this case referring to a fucking 1960s model truck and truck camper) beat up again, Mikasa would fucking kill me. She’d begged me to get away from the violence and the fighting, scared of me coming home with injuries, but more scared of me not coming home at all. Besides, I didn’t want to go back to that, either. It was a good adrenaline rush, and a good way to vent some of my teenage angst, but I quickly got too entrenched in violence and gore. While I might’ve enjoyed it while I was sixteen, I was in my twenties now, and I was looking to move on.

I needed to keep this job, though. While it was doubtful that Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt would rat me out, since I could just do the same to them, but I needed to be sure. If I lost this job, I would have to go back to San Francisco, getting whatever minimum-wage job I could with my otherwise fucking useless art degree.

I reminded myself sternly that there was no use thinking and stressing about my situation now, especially since the first group of fans were being led in by Reiner. I had to do my job, especially since I was so desperate to keep it. 

I started snapping some pictures, trying to get them from different angles and of each member. I was free to take whatever pictures I wished, but Pixis was going to have the fans sign – or refuse to sign – a waiver before leaving allowing the use of the pictures that they were in. I couldn’t use any that weren’t allowed by the waivers.

I got a couple good ones and a couple really shitty ones, but I kept them all to go through later when I had more time to inspect completely.

I probably would’ve really enjoyed this if I hadn’t been worrying about the Titans the whole time. I could see Armin shooting me concerned glances, even though I thought I’d been doing a good job of hiding my anxiety. He’d always known how to read me better than anyone, even Mikasa. To be honest, it was annoying as hell.

The meet-and-greet couldn’t be over soon enough. There were too many screaming, crying girls, too many guys in leather and eyeliner, and too many creepy middle aged people trying to cling on to the rock scene any way they could.

I was relieved when Pixis announced the last group. From the way they sighed (Erwin and Mike), cheered (Petra and Hanji), and swore up a storm (Levi), I could tell that the band was relieved too. It must be exhausting for them. I hadn’t even done much besides snap some pictures and _I_ was fucking dead on my feet. I didn’t even want to imagine how they felt.

The last group was a group of teenage girls, one of whom proposed to Erwin, giving him a ring and everything, even though the ring was probably fake.  She laughed it off good naturedly after he politely declined, then asked him to sign her tits. I didn’t take a picture of that, despite Hanji, Levi, and Mike looking back at me with suppressed smiles on their faces. Or, in Levi’s case, a slightly less pissed off expression than normal. Instead, I pretended to shuffle through my pictures as Erwin signed somewhere along her collarbone instead.

After the group was escorted out, Hanji, Petra, and Mike burst into laughter, while Erwin dropped his head onto the table in front of them with a loud thunk.

“Okay, now that’s over, let’s get going,” Pixis announced, rushing everyone out the door. “Sound check is in…” He checked his Rolex. “One hour!”

The band groaned.

“Can’t we at least get some lunch?” Hanji demanded, shaking an outraged fist to the sky. “There’s a Chipotle like, right next door.”

“I’m not eating that shit.” Levi spoke up, and I could practically feel everyone groan, even if they didn't dare do it aloud. “I found a hair in my food there once.”

“It was one time, fucking hell, Levi,” Hanji protested. "You liked it before that, didn't you?"

He glared at them, nostrils flaring. “I don’t care.”

“Fucking clean freak,” Hanji muttered, yelping when said clean freak hit them in the back of the head. 

Pixis looked at his watch and considered, looking sideways at Nanaba. The pseudo-nanny shrugged, and Pixis turned back to the band and repeated the gesture.

“Sure, but I’m going to need someone else to take your orders so we don’t cause a scene.” Pixis looked around to find the so-called ‘someone’. His gaze landed on me, and I groaned inwardly. “Oh, great, all of our newbies can go!”

I exchanged wide eyed looks with Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt, and this time I really did groan aloud, mentally cursing the man out. 

“C’mon, newbies gotta earn their keep,” Hannes said sagely, straining to rest his elbow on Bertholdt’s shoulder. The Latino shot him a miffed look, ducking out from under his arm and causing him to stagger sideways.

I closed my eyes. “Write down your orders,” I sighed.

 

* * *

 

“So, Eren,” Annie began. “It’s been a while.”

I made a noncommittal noise, trying not to give any of my emotions away, especially the tiny shiver of fear I felt. It was strange being around them, especially Annie, and I didn't know how to make sense of what was happening and what their intentions were. They probably weren't my biggest fan, sure, but did they want to hurt me? Did they want to pretend I didn't exist? 

“How’ve you been?”

I looked at her, disbelieving, and my experience with trying to read her during our fights to let me get a leg-up was the only way I knew that she was fucking with me.

I rolled my eyes. “Fucking fantastic.” I lowered my voice so that the people in front and behind us in the long, long line wouldn’t overhear. “We need to talk.”

Annie worked her jaw, knowing exactly what I meant. “Yes, we do.” Her ice blue eyes darted over the people around them. “Not here though.”

I scoffed. “You’re busy for the rest of the day. No one here gives much of a shit what we’re talking about. We're alone, let's fucking talk.”

Annie’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t look angry; if anything, she looked contemplative. “Fine,” she said finally in a deadpan voice. She huffed, inhaling deeply and pushing it out quickly. “So, obviously we have, uh, some history.” She made the quotation marks gesture with her fingers around the word ‘history’. “I’m sure you feel the same, but I’d really appreciate being able to keep this job. I don’t want to live like that anymore. None of us do.” Bertholdt and Reiner nodded to show their support for what she’d said.  

“Me neither,” I agreed quietly. “So, we’re all on the same page, then. I won’t say anything, and neither will you guys.”

“Yes,” Annie confirmed. She stuck out a pale hand and let it hang there. “I am trusting you to stick to this agreement. I hope that you don’t break it.” She stared at me impassively, and I shivered, knowing her implication: _I hope you don’t break the agreement, ‘cause if you do, I’ll beat you so badly that you’ll be an unidentifiable mush when I’m done._

“You don’t have to threaten me,” I said easily, more used to Annie’s violence than was considered the societal norm. I grabbed onto the hand she offered, but didn’t release. We stared into each other’s eyes, trying to read each other – just like old times. “If any of us sells the others out, the others can just take the little bitch down with them.”

Annie shrugged. “I’ll still beat you within an inch of your fucking life if you sell us out." 

I grinned, part sadistically, part jokingly. My hand tightened around her own. “Fucking _try it.”_

Reiner cleared his throat. “Hey, hey,” he broke in, grabbing our wrists and wrenching them apart. He pressed them to our chests to get us to back up out of each other's faces. “Let’s not do that.”

I sighed, relaxing and scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. Most of the tension had eased when we’d come to our agreement, but it was slightly uncomfortable still. It was like standing with an ex and trying to make conversation while you’re both just thinking something along the lines of: _You can’t last for more than five minutes, fucker. I’ve faked my orgasms for the five final months of our relationship_ or _you have a tattoo of an ‘in memorium’ tattoo of Heath Ledger as Joker on your ass, which is highly appropriate, because your ass is a fucking joke._

“Gotta say, Jaeger,” Reiner said, taking control of the conversation for the first time. “You look a lot better without all the bloodstains and bruises.”

“No shit,” I drawled. “Still got the fucking broken nose, though.” I pointed to my nose, which had been somewhat numb until I noticed it.

The three of them looked amused. “It’s practically your trademark at this point,” Reiner laughed.

I pretended to laugh loudly, before shooting him a death glare and flipping him off with both hands. He laughed for real.

“No hard feelings, though?” I said finally, exhaling. “I mean, yeah, I kicked your ass, you kicked mine; it’s all even.” I shifted from foot to foot. “Are we good?”

Reiner and Bertholdt looked over at Annie, waiting for her verdict. In their defense, Annie had been the only one I’d really fought and hurt. Annie rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have anything against you.”

I snorted. “I could think of better ways to put that, and if I didn’t know you better, I’d be insulted, but… Great.”

We finally made it up to the front of the line, and had to stop our conversation to order. Before turning to tell the impatient barista what she needed, Annie turned to me and said with a dangerous smirk, “It’s our secret, Jaeger. Don’t fuck up.” She held out her hand to shake on it, and when I grabbed it, she pulled me closer, standing on her toes to lean up and whisper into my ear, her breath making my hair rise, "You've grown nicely, Jaeger. Nice piercings, by the way." I self consciously touched my earlobe, even though I'd had that one when I'd known her back then. I had gotten a lot after that -- a second and third earlobe and three cartilage piercings on each ear, an industrial bar and daith on my left ear and a rook and tragus on my right, a tongue piercing, and two side-by-side eyebrow piercings over my right eye. "Kinda makes me long for the good old days, hmm?"

I knew she was messing with me, but I wasn't sure how sincere her offer was. I decided to play along, leaning in to her own ear, bare of any piercings, and whispered, "The days when you'd rip the piercings out with your bare hands to try and stay alive?"

She grinned, which was a rare occurrence for her. She leaned in closer, so that her lips barely brushed my neck when she spoke. I shivered, and I could feel a laugh rumble in her chest that she didn't vocalize. "We all know you're a masochist, Jaeger." 

During our... conversation (what the fuck do I even call that whole exchange?) I had forgotten about everyone else around me, fixed on the game that Annie and I were playing with each other. I forgot about Reiner and Bertholdt, which I felt a bit bad about, especially since they had to stand there awkwardly through the whole shitfest. Eventually, Reiner got tired and stepped up, putting a hand on our shoulders. 

"Hey, look at that!" he feigned surprise. "It's our turn to order. Let's save the hormones for the preteens, yeah?"

The moment ended, and each of us immediately snapped out of it. Annie rocked back to her heels, putting her back to her normal height of  _really fucking short_ \-- about to my collarbone. She walked away, acting as if nothing had happened at all. Typical. I snorted and rolled my eyes, filing in line behind Bertholdt.

Between the four bodyguards, five band members, and the management and crew, there were fourteen orders, so we ordered three or four each. The staff shot us dirty looks and acted as if we’d asked them to cure cancer, but I completely sympathized for them. I’d worked in the fast food industry before, and, let me tell you, customers dropping enormous orders on you, in the middle of a rush no less, was the equivalent of Brutus’ betrayal of Caesar.

I rattled off Petra, Hanji, and Erwin’s orders quickly enough, and was about to go on to Levi’s when a hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped and whirled around. Levi was standing there, eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses and hair covered by a maroon beanie that matched his pants. He stared at me with the same look in his eyes as he’d sported after I’d hit him in the face with the car door.

“Um… Le – uh, what do you need?” I cut myself off before I could say his name and give his disguise away, but from the flashing of phone cameras I figured it was a lost cause already.

Why did he look so angry, though? What had I done? Had I even done something? Levi was a pissy person in general, so maybe someone else – Hanji would be my guess – pissed him off, and now he was just taking it out on an innocent bystander such as myself.

The way he glared at me though was even worse than before, with hostility in his eyes, like a caged dog ready to snap at the first sign of danger.

“I changed my mind,” he spit out, like each word was repulsive and personally offending to him. “I want carnitas after all.”

“O-okay,” I agreed, turning back to the barista and relaying the updated order. The entire time, Levi hovered like a devil over my shoulder. I could hear his deep breathing, but I probably imagined the prickling on the back of my neck.

Annie had already finished paying for the food, which had all been finished with the exception of Levi’s. Reiner and Bertholdt held a bag in each hand, and I took the final one.

We exited the store, Levi sticking close to me. I was uneasy with him so close, especially when he seemed to be on the brink of a hulk-like fit of rage. I racked my brains trying to think of what I did but coming up with nothing that could be the cause for his anger.

I remembered the look in Levi’s eyes as he stared at me. Levi was stoic and seemed to have complete control over his emotions, but I had gotten good at reading Mikasa over the years, and Levi was similar enough that I could read him a tiny bit (especially after I realized that Levi actually did have feelings and was not a killer robot sent to enslave the human race). The look in his eyes was wary, not afraid, but hostile, like I was a bomb that could go off at any second.

He saw me as a threat. _Why?_

We all reentered the tour bus, single file up the narrow stairs. The four of us set to work passing out the food, napkins, and utensils, while Levi got his food and retreated into the back. Petra followed him, her phone practically pressed against her nose, making her eyes go cross-eyed.

I sat down in the seat I’d taken when we’d come, pulling my camera case out and setting my camera carefully inside. I put the case and camera back under the chair. I sighed and powered up my tablet, tweeting out a _Great to see you all this afternoon at the meet &greet! We love you all!! We can’t accept any marriage proposals, though #cantsingwitharing _

I chuckled at my own clever hashtag before realizing that I was basically laughing at my own joke. My smile dropped off of my face and I cleared my throat loudly.

I could feel my ears burning, so, looking for a distraction, I flipped through the members’ twitters. Each had posted something about the meet and greet, with members such as Hanji, Petra, Mike and Erwin – basically everyone who wasn’t Levi – posting some cute selfie of themselves with fans.

A notification popped up indicating that I had a direct message, and I clicked on it, frowning as I wondered who could possibly be DMing me.

My gut sank as I read it: _Come. Now._ It was sent by @leviackerman.

I stood on shaky legs, making some lame ass excuse about needing a bathroom, rushing into the back where the bunks were.

Petra left after I arrived, rolling her eyes and huffing like a toddler, and I wondered what Levi had done to make her agree to leave.

The man in question was standing in the center of the aisle, arms crossed against his chest which made his biceps bulge– _Not the fucking time, Eren, not the fucking time,_ I told myself. He had the same glare, except this time, he looked like he was enraged. Levi just stared as I entered and closed the door behind me, and once he heard the click of the door sliding shut, he began to stalk towards me.

I backed away from him, raising my hands in a surrender. I wasn’t scared of much, but Levi without a doubt was one of the things that could successfully scare the piss out of me. I wasn’t proud of this.

He didn’t stop approaching until my back was against the door, crowding into my personal space and twisting a fist into my shirt.

“What the fuck are you hiding, brat?” he snarled, and my heart stopped.

Out of all the people to overhear the conversation in the restaurant, it just had to be Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't want to explicitly state eren's history, nor did i want to give it away (who the fuck uses nor anymore? apparently me) completely in only the fifth chapter, so i gave a snippet of a memory. i hope it's clear enough, but if it's not let me know and i'll edit!!! Please let me know if you understood! 
> 
> Just so it's clear and for those who may have skipped due to triggers: Eren, Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt were involved in streetfighting and fight clubs. They were in the same one, and Annie and Eren had a rivalry, but they didn't know each other well enough to be trusted to know each others' names. Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt were part of a 'clique' called the Titans. There's "something" between Annie and Eren but nothing is specified. 
> 
> I THINK i did an okay job of showing the gist of what was going on, though, so hopefully you all like it!! 
> 
> PLEASE give me some feedback! It motivates me to write more and I honestly squeal like a little girl and flail around whenever I get any...


	6. my self control is tested because i really dont want to piss him off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lover on the left, a sinner on the right
> 
> \- A Casual Affair by Panic at the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, 100 kudos?!? THANK YOU GUYS so much!! I love all of your support and it really motivates me to update quicker!!!

For being so tiny, Levi was pretty damn strong. He lifted me by the hand fisted in my shirt a couple inches off the ground, pressing me into the door. I wrapped my hands around his to try and pry it off, but I didn’t dare do anything else, especially when I was pretty sure he could kick my ass to the fucking moon, even with my experience.

“I—I don’t…” I choked out, my neck squeezed by the fabric of my shirt.

I squeezed my eyes shut as Levi pulled my back from the wall and slammed me against it again.

“Stop fucking around with me,” he said slowly, pronouncing each word clearly and murderously. “I fucking heard you. There’s a secret, and you don’t want anyone here to know it.”

“So why the hell do I have to tell you?” I dared to snarl back. I could feel my face and neck burning, and I was probably beet red right now, partly from embarrassment at being hoisted like a little kid and partly from anger.

_I don’t fucking deserve this… I haven’t done anything wrong! Why the hell is he so fucking upset?_

He repeated slamming me against the wall, and this time, I wasn’t able to keep my head from snapping back and hitting the wood. I groaned, keeping my head tipped back and my eyes squeezed shut. My face didn’t hurt too much anymore, but after the jostling, it was throbbing again.

I heard someone knock in an echo of the sound of my skull hitting wood, and Nanaba called out, “Everything okay in there?”

Levi swore and shoved me to the side, giving me a look that froze me in my place. The meaning behind the look was clear: _one word, and I’ll fucking kill you._ He opened the door, opening wide enough to avoid suspicion but not enough to show me laying on the floor.

“Sorry,” he grunted. “I just ran into the door.”

It was a shitty lie, but Nanaba bought it, leaving the drummer alone after making sure he didn’t need any ice or band-aids. I wanted to scream at her to stay and save me, but she released the door and left, letting Levi shut it behind her. My gut felt completely empty, and my chest felt tight. Together, both made me feel like I was about to burst into a gory, bloody mess.

Levi’s neutral face turned deadly in an instant as he turned back to me. “Alright you little shit,” he spat. “What the fuck are you hiding? Don’t bother lying; you’re a shit liar.”

I scowled. Mikasa had always told me that I shouldn’t bother lying since I was useless at it – apparently I had a really obvious tell – but hearing it snarled at me so condescendingly caused me to bristle with indignation.

“I’m not hiding anything,” I tried pathetically. It came out sounding more like a question.

I wheezed after a brutal hit to the gut.

“Don’t _lie,”_ Levi hissed.

“It’s nothing!” I burst out, becoming increasingly angry over Levi’s treatment. “It’s not a big deal! It’s just some personal shit, so it’s none of your fucking business! It’s _nothing_!”  

I got another kick, this time harder. “Until I know that for myself, I’m not going to stop until you tell me.”

I hacked, trying to breathe deeply. I looked up at Levi, showing murder in my eyes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my conscience reminded me that all of this secret-keeping was pointless if I pissed off Levi and got fired anyway, but I was too enraged to listen to it. “Why do you even care?”

Levi kicked me again, and it was hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I crumpled to my side in fetal position, both arms wrapped around my stomach as I gasped to regain my breath.

“Because you’re a fucking _threat,_ you asshole!”

We both froze. Everything was silent in the room except for my harsh breathing, and I could hear a ringing in my ears from the unexpected lack of noise. We made eye contact, and for the first time, I could clearly see the emotion in Levi’s slate grey eyes – I could see anger, stubbornness, determination, curiosity, but most surprisingly, vulnerability.

I was a threat. Did that mean Levi was afraid of me?

It seemed ridiculous that someone like Levi was afraid of someone like me, but I didn’t know what else explained his behavior. He was afraid, so he lashed out – unfortunately at me.

“It’s not a big deal,” I repeated, quieter this time, but it sounded like a shout in the silence. “It’s something in my – in our – past that we’d rather forget, and we just agreed that we wouldn’t talk about it or tell anyone.”

Levi stared at me, and I stared back, finally able to keep eye contact now that he didn’t look like he was about to murder me. He had regained his stoic, expressionless façade and I could no longer tell what he was thinking or feeling.

I hoped that my description had been clear enough for Levi but still ambiguous enough to keep our secret safe. If I broke the oath now, I had no doubts that Annie really would kill me, and Reiner and Bertholdt would let her.

Levi just looked at me blankly, and I started to squirm under his penetrative stare. My breathing was starting to even out again, so I pushed myself off the floor, onto my knees. I didn’t dare rise yet, just in case Levi had some sort of complex. I wouldn’t put it past him to get angry if I rose and stood over him. For now, I was better on my knees.

I wasn’t sure if this paid off or not, because all of a sudden, Levi smirked and said, “You look good on your knees.”

I stared at him, not comprehending for a good couple seconds. When I realized the meaning of the line, I flushed bright red and scrambled to my feet, mumbling a “F—Fuck you, dickface!”

“Sure,” he muttered, his smirk turning into a predatory grin that sent shivers down my spine.

“That’s not what I meant!” I cried, completely in over my head.

Levi chuckled and rolled his eyes, the smile fading. “I get it, though,” he murmured, letting out a drawn-out sigh as he lowered himself to one of the beds. I didn’t know if it was his, but I doubted it: there was a stack of books, an alarm clock, and a couple picture frames on the shelf. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Erwin’s. He sighed. “I fucking get it.”

I raised an eyebrow quizzically, not following where he was going. I shifted from foot to foot.

He stared at me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was being picked apart. “Are you a threat, Eren?”

Was this the first time he called me by name? It must have been, since it took me completely off guard. It took me a good ten seconds to register the rest of the question and come up with an answer.

“No,” I said firmly. Then I rolled my eyes and amended, “Well, I don’t intend to be. As you’ve already realized, I’m very prone to causing accidents. But, no, I don’t have any plans to fuck you or the crew over.”

“So, if I let this go here, I won’t wake up with a knife in my back?” Levi asked.

“No,” I said. I repeated it a couple times just to make sure he understood. I scratched the back of my neck. “Not that I’m not grateful or anything… but… you don’t need more details?”

Levi slumped back, his head hitting the wall behind him, but he didn’t give any indication that it hurt him, or even that it happened at all. “I can understand where you’re coming from, I guess,” he said eventually. “I fucking understand running from a shitty past. So, no, I’m not gonna push it. Don’t make me fucking regret it, ’cause I’ll kick your ass.”

“Noted,” I said, saluting like a loser. I wasn’t sure why I’d decided to do it, but something about Levi’s presence just screamed power and authority. Frankly, it was fucking intimidating as fuck. I stood there awkwardly, waiting for Levi to tell me what he wanted to do.

He looked at me and snorted. “Fuck outta here, kid.”

I didn’t hesitate to comply, darting out of the door like all the demons of Hell were on my ass. I heard a low chuckle from the room and turned red in anger and embarrassment.

“You okay there, Eren?” Pixis asked, lacking any sort of social grace whatsoever. “You were gone for quite a while.”

“You should be careful!” Hanji burst in, jumping up and holding my shoulders. I held back a groan when they shook me, which raised vehement complaints from my poor nose. Seriously, my poor fucking nose. I was no stranger to broken noses and pain, but – fucking hell – I was starting to reach my limit. Any more and I’d lock myself in the dumbfuck truck camper and refuse to speak to anyone until the end of the tour. I could still do my job from there, right?

Erwin chuckled as he forcibly removed Hanji from me. “Sorry about them,” he apologized again. “But they’re right. Levi has a very strict ‘no-shitting-on-the-bus’ policy.”

“That’s ’cause it makes it bus smell like fucking shit for the next ten hours,” Levi said from behind me, causing me to jump aside in alarm. I crashed into Armin’s legs and just avoided landing on his lap by twisting at the last minute and landing on the seat next to him.

“Eh? Are you okay Eren?” He cried. I was accident prone on a good day, but I was really outdoing myself.

“Fine,” I muttered. I was sure that my entire face, neck, and ears were bright red.

I wanted to scream. Who did Levi think he was? Did he hate me? Did he like me? He was easily the most confusing person I’d ever met, and his mood changed unpredictably and often. It was impossible to figure out who Levi really was, since he would change so often.

Armin shot me a concerned glance, but I just shook my head with a grimace, begging him not to ask. He got the silent plea and stayed quiet.

I pulled out my tablet, looking for a distraction, but no social media sites had been updated by any of the members. I didn’t feel any need to update the official Legion account either. I set it aside and turned to my camera for something to keep me busy instead. I scrolled through them all, mentally noting a couple that were some of the better pictures. I had to upload them all to my laptop when we returned and edit them all, anyway, so I didn’t want to delete any in case they had some hidden potential or could be fixed with the magic of Photoshop.

I found myself hesitating as I flipped through a couple pictures of Levi. In each, he looked genuinely happy, and I doubted he was that good of an actor. His eyes were warmer than normal, and sparkling brightly, even if his mouth was stuck in a harsh frown. His body language was more open, and he looked relaxed, even though I’d learned that he was more of a lone wolf and introvert. It was the first time I’d seen him so happy, and it was strange. The image of Levi in my head – a grumpy, scowling badass who kicks puppies for shits and giggles – did not align with this Levi, one who smiled at fans and treated them kindly.

The more time I spend around Levi, the less I know him, and it drives me insane.

It also makes me more intrigued, no matter how much I tell myself that getting curious about Levi is a bad idea. A really, really, really fucking bad idea.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day was a frenzy of activity. All members of the band and crew were running around trying to prep for the concert, except for me. Instead, I sat in the goddamn truck camper, laying on my stomach on the bed with my laptop propped up against a pillow and a freshly chilled ice pack against my face. I found a bunch of good pictures, and finally decided on eight. I’d edited them and sent them off to Pixis for approval, then posted on Facebook, Tumblr, and the official webpage when Pixis okay-ed them all. He went over the top praising my photography skills, and it seemed kind of depressing that I was trying to figure out whether he had really low standards or if he was just trying to be nice. _God fucking forbid he actually like them. Your self-confidence is shit._

I sighed and shut my laptop harder than I’d intended. I rolled over onto my back, and my icepack slid off my face and wedged between the bed and my cheek.

I peeked one eye open to look at the clock on the wall. Originally, it hung on a hook, but it kept falling off. Armin gave up and adhered it to the wall with heavy duty silver tape. Real classy. Just another reason why this thing is a fucking shithole.

The concert was due to start in a couple or hours or so, and I wasn’t invited to go this time. Pixis was busy, so I was informed by a timid, soft-spoken man who introduced himself as Moblit, the event manager (I’d have to ask Mikasa what that was later) that, while the big-fuck corporates wanted to get some pictures of Legion in concert for whatever reason and wanted me to attend concerts if I could, the first one was just too hectic to have some newbie running around getting in the way.

Honestly, I did feel like I was being left out, but once I turned on Netflix and grabbed a bag of Doritos I wasn’t really feeling the sting anymore.

I could hear the crowd outside as they started to gather, and in annoyance – I could barely hear what the fucking characters were saying. I was all the way across the street and on the other side of the lot, too, so the crowd was loud as shit.

I made myself a hot pocket for dinner, and stuffed it down even though every bite made me want to fucking die. Mikasa had said that she’d wanted me to take this job so I could have the money to eat better, but so far, it seemed like my diet then and my diet now were gonna end up being very similar, if not exactly the same.

I just wanted good fucking food, is that too much to ask? Fucking hell.

I lost track of time, like I always did on Netflix. I didn’t pay attention to how many episodes I was watching, and the next thing I knew, Mikasa and Armin were trooping through the door looking haggard and exhausted.

“Is the concert over already?” I asked stupidly, pulling my headphones out. I realized how loud I’d been playing them when I could still hear sound from where they rested on my lap.

“Already?” Armin repeated, raising a thick eyebrow. “Eren, it’s been almost five hours since we left.”

I looked at them blankly, then at my laptop screen, then back at them. “…Oh.”

Mikasa snorted. “Yeah, _oh.”_ She picked the Hot Pocket wrapper from where it stuck out of the trash can. “Really, Eren? You’ve got to eat better.”

“Yes, Mother,” I grumbled, shutting my laptop harder than I’d meant to and hopping off the bed. I tipped a bit to the side as my vision spun with vertigo. “I’m fine.” I slapped Mikasa’s hand away and steadying my balance myself. “Just stood up too fast.”

Mikasa sighed. “Well, if you’re interested, there’s a big thing going on nearby. They rented a bar or something.”

“What? Why?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “Most of Legion is really big into that type of thing – partying, alcohol, getting drunk, hooking up, etcetera etcetera. Management knows that, even if they try to ban all that, the band is still going to find some way around it, so they prefer them to do it under watch rather than sneaking out and getting in trouble.”

“Like that shit where parents let their kids drink at home so they don’t sneak out and do it somewhere else,” I summarized. “That never fucking works.”

Armin grimaced, but Mikasa’s displeasure was much more subtle.

“It helps, though,” Armin said. “Legion sneaks out much less now. As a PR, I am very grateful.”

“And the rest of us are glad that we only have to run around trying to find where a band member went to fuck once or twice a week,” Mikasa said bluntly.

“Once or twice a fucking week?!” I asked. “How are they not dying of fucking aids or some shit?”

Armin chuckled and Mikasa snorted.

“The company also provides sex protection and STD screenings,” my sister said with no inflexion in her voice.

I stared at her, hoping she was joking. “Holy shit, that must be awkward as fuck.”

Armin cleared his throat. “Anyway, the invite is open to crew, also, since, y’know, it’d be pointless to rent out a bar for five people. We were thinking of going. Do you want to come?”

I looked back at my laptop longingly, but I felt guilty enough for wasting an entire evening on Netflix that I agreed.

“You can’t wear _that,”_ Mikasa spoke up, looking at my sweatpants and ratty muscle shirt with a wrinkled nose. She went over and helped herself to my clothing, searching through it with no regard for organization.

“Mikasa!” I complained. She shot me a look that clearly read, _You know this is gonna end up a mess, anyway, right?_ “Come on! I don’t want to wear wrinkled clothes!”

She rolled her eyes and threw me a plain black t-shirt, skinny jeans, and a leather vest. I yelped when she threw a pair of combat boots one by one at my head with surprising accuracy.

“Mikasa!” Armin scolded, ever the example of common sense. “You could have hurt his nose.”

Mikasa looked panic-stricken, frozen, staring up at my face.

“She didn’t,” I reassured, rolling my eyes and starting to strip. “Everything’s fine. It’s _fine,_ Mikasa, Jeez.”

“Hurry up, Jaeger,” Mikasa huffed.

 

* * *

 

 

The bar was emptier than it usually would be, but it was a comfortable amount of people. There weren’t so many people that it made it crowded, but enough people that it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was mostly the younger crew members there, but I did see Pixis drinking himself into a stupor by the bar and Nanaba hovering over his shoulder, ready to swoop in to cut him off at the first sign of inebriation. Jean, Marco, Ymir, Historia, Sasha, and Connie were all on the dance floor. Some were more successful than others. Ymir and Jean danced in the stereotypical club style, while their partners, Marco and Historia, danced cutely like high school students did at their prom. Sasha and Connie were doing fuck-knows-what, but whatever it was surely couldn’t be called dancing. It was mostly flailing and jerking. Off to the side, Hanji was dancing manically with Petra. Two of the many booths were occupied, one by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt, and one by the remaining Legion members. When we entered, Levi immediately made eye contact with me, and his glare was contemplative. I could see a warning in his eyes, and he seemed to be sizing me up. I rolled my eyes pointedly and looked away. _Turn Down for What_ was blaring on the speakers, a typical and cliché song to play in a place like this.

My breath whooshed out of me when I was jumped by Sasha and Connie, Sasha wrapping around my neck with her legs around my waist, and Connie wrapped his arms around my waist (and Sasha’s legs) and his legs around my left one.

“What the fuck, you guys?” I laughed. I tried to shake them off, but neither budged. “How much have you had to drink so far? Holy shit.”

“Just a couple shots,” Sasha pouted, rubbing her face into my neck. ‘Just a couple shots’ had to be a lie, since Sasha had three stages of inebriation: stage one was absolute craziness, stage two was the ‘I love you’ drunk, and stage three was a drowsy but cuddly and affectionate Sasha. It looked like she was on the brink of stage three, so she had to have at least five drinks.

Connie laughed, then howled, “We’re drunk on life, man, drunk on _liiiiife!”_

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the shots,” Jean snorted, having approached during my struggle. He had an arm around Marco’s shoulders even though the freckled boy was a bit taller than him, especially with his long torso.

I finally shook off Connie, but Sasha wouldn’t budge. Instead, she swung around to my back and wrapped her arms around my neck, digging into my throat.

“Sasha,” I gagged, pulling at her arm. She didn’t get the message and pulled tighter. I looked to Mikasa in a silent plea for help, and she rolled her eyes before prying the girl off of my back. I hacked a couple times, bending over at the waist.

I almost fell on my face when Jean clapped me on the back and had to hold myself back from slugging him.

“Fucking hell, you asswad!”

He rolled his eyes. “C’mon are you gonna be a party pooper, Jaeger?”

I glared at him, and could feel a muscle jumping in my jaw. We held eye contact, having a silent stare off. I rolled my eyes.

“Get me a fucking shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Just wanted to let you all know that updates are going to be less frequent and more sporratic since I'm at college now and i'm gonna be a whole lot busier but i'm estimating a chapter every couple of weeks... sorry... 
> 
> as always i would reallyreallyreally appreciate it if you'd leave feedback!! i cant promise anything but~~ updates will come quicker with feedback!! 
> 
> ...is this blackmail?? 
> 
> Well, please give feedback, i guess.


	7. this was a bad idea, but i specialize in bad ideas

_He wasn’t sure how the bouncer had let him in – he was only fourteen after all – but he wasn’t complaining; he was in. He had grown up fast, he’d had to, and it showed in his expression and how he carried himself. Thanks to his mature appearance, coupled with his bruises and cuts and a bouncer that really didn’t give a fuck, he was in._

_He hesitated as he tried to adapt to the culture shock. It wasn’t like he spent his time in respectable places or anything like that, but he’d never been in anything like The Rose before. The whole place was thrumming with some EDM music he didn’t recognize, stuffy with humidity coming from the feverishly dancing and grinding bodies on the dance floor that somehow managed to be both brightly and dimly lit at once. A quick scan of his surroundings showed that very few people – if any – were sober or anything less than buzzed. Shadowed corners made acts that would be shamed in the light acceptable._

_A hand clapped him on the back as its owner moved past him, encouraging him to keep moving and to keep up with the group – it was so easy to lose yourself in the crowd. He fell in line with the rest of his group – like everyone he’d met on the streets, he wasn’t sure he could call them true friends, but they were friendly and he liked them. They reached the bar, and Nac – the only over-twenty-one in their group – ordered a round for them all and pressed a shot of some sort of liquor into his hands. He threw it back gratefully, savoring the burn that came with cheap alcohol._

_A few more shots, taken eagerly to forget the darkness that seemed to hover around him so often lately, was all it took to set him loose._

_He didn’t remember much of that night, apart from dancing with strangers, going down on someone in the alley, smoking something that definitely didn’t smell like a cigarette and left a bitter taste in his mouth, and going home with someone who he’d skipped out on the moment he awoke to a strange room and unfamiliar snore._

_He didn’t feel anything – and that made him feel afraid._

 

* * *

 

 

I found myself roped into a game of fucking ‘Never-Have-I-Ever’, despite multiple eye rolls and sighs to show my displeasure with such a stupid, amateur drinking game.

I’d never really been one for drinking games. I much rather preferred to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible, so I would skip the whole game that would only delay my goal of total inebriation.

Besides, out of all drinking games, it had to be that one? Fucking lame. At least games like Ring of Fire or Flip Cup or whatever were a bit interesting and guaranteed that you would be getting drunk.

I decided to play along, though, since I didn’t much feel like drinking alone like some fucking loser moping by the bar. I settled in between Mikasa and Historia, leaning back and glancing around at the Titan trio – who were talking quietly at a booth – and the band, who had all gathered at a booth and (most of whom) were talking and laughing loudly.

My distraction caused me to miss the picking of the first person, and when I turned my attention back to the table, Ymir was already beginning with, “Never have I ever… fantasized about someone in this room.”

Apparently, that one was a brutal question, since Jean, Marco, Sasha, Connie, Historia, Armin (staring fixedly at the ceiling to avoid eye contact with anyone) and Ymir herself all took a shot. I hadn’t fantasized about anyone in the little circle, but then I remembered my ‘thing’ with Annie and downed my shot. It had a subtle burn to it, but it went down smoothly, and I could tell that it was high-quality liquor -- Fuck yes. 

“Eren, you’ve been here for like three days. Who the fuck have you fantasized about?” Jean badgered.

I didn’t want to answer, and I couldn’t without giving away the secret. Instead, I played it off like a joke. I batted my eyelashes at the other boy, smiling stupidly. “You, of course, Jean-bo,” I said sweetly, using a hated nickname only used by his mother (I wasn’t too close to Jean, but I’d happened to be in his car while he took a call from his mother over the car speakers. I didn’t stop laughing until Jean socked me in the gut). “I’m really into horses, but there are laws against sodomy, and you’re the next best thing.”

My distraction seemed to work, since the rest of the table quickly forgot about the question as they laughed. Jean shot me the bird, but shook his head with a tiny grin.

Marco, to Ymir’s left, went next. I hadn’t expected much out of him, being the most innocent person I’d ever met (maybe like a ‘smoked pot’ or ‘gotten suspended’), but he smiled wickedly and said, “Never have I ever banged someone I just met.”

Shit. I take back what I said. I’m going to be so smashed by the time this is over, and I’ll probably spill a couple of secrets along the way. I sighed and drank another shot, along with only Jean and Ymir this time.

Armin and Mikasa sent me reproachful looks, but I just shrugged.

“Never have I ever… been handcuffed,” Jean suggested.

God fucking dammit. “In what context?” I asked.

Some of the group laughed, but others gave me embarrassed looks. I was pretty shameless at this point, three shots in and not really sober enough to give a fuck what they thought of me. If things kept going like this, being handcuffed would probably be pretty vanilla compared to the other stuff I had been involved in. Somewhere, the part of my brain that was still sober worried about someone bringing up fight clubs or street fights, but the drunk part of my brain decided that it was a problem for future me to deal with. 

“One drink for either arrested or sex, two for both,” Jean said evilly.

I growled under my breath and grabbed Mikasa’s untouched shot from next to me as well as my own.

“Damn, Jaeger, have you _not_ had to drink yet?” Jean asked.

I didn’t answer, just flipped him off with both hands. “Next,” I urged, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Sasha grinned wickedly and rubbed her hands together. “Never have I ever…” she sang, “gotten fucking smashed and woken up somewhere you don’t recognize the next morning.”

I slammed my forehead to the table, which I immediately regretted after my head started to throb distantly. “That’s what’s gonna fucking happen to me tomorrow if I keep playing this shit.” Five shots in, and I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol on my system. 

Mikasa tsked disapprovingly. “He’s going to drink himself into a coma. Can he do, like, half a shot or something?”

I didn’t raise my head to see who was giving me startled looks, but I could tell that Ymir, Jean, Sasha and Connie all laughed.

The game went on for a good two times around the circle, with things as tame as ‘smoked a cigarette’, as extreme as ‘fucked in your parent’s house while they were home’ and as ridiculous as ‘contemplated the risk vs. reward of gloryholes’ being thrown out. I drank for most of them, to be honest – not the gloryhole one, thank you very much, or the parent one, 'cause, y'know, my parents are fucking dead – but by the end I had definitely had more to drink than I expected I would at the beginning of the game.

“Eren,” Armin sighed disapprovingly. “Do you always need to get drunk every time we go out?”

I grinned at him good-naturedly. “Fuck yeah, dude.”

Armin clicked his tongue reproachfully. “Just don’t blame me when you have a terrible hangover during our drive tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fuck, I’m not that drunk Arm. Besides, I checked your fucking schedule,” I said easily. “I’m riding in the fucking camper. It’s fine. Besides, I don't get hangovers, remember?”

The look Armin gave me made the logical part of my brain rethink whether or not I’d truly be fine the next day, but the rest of my brain overruled that part. I’d always been good at holding alcohol, and after so many nights spent drinking during my teenage years I had built up an impressive tolerance. (Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if it was counted as ‘impressive’ or just ‘depressing’, but I’m choosing to be optimistic).

“ _Yo!”_ Jean yelled from the dance floor. Unlike me, his alcohol tolerance was poor. “Come dance, fuckers!”

Armin rolled his eyes but was grinning broadly, starting to join the small group who were currently having a hip thrust contest. I decided – regretfully – to pass on that. Instead, I headed over to the Titans who were discussing quietly in a booth tucked away in the corner of the room. I slid in next to Annie, throwing an arm over her shoulder casually.

She left it there, but arranged herself in a way where her elbow was digging into my gut and her foot was pressing against my ankle, trying to make it as painful as possible and daring me to keep my arm where it was. Being as stubborn as I was, I only pulled her closer, rubbing my nose in her hair to mess it up. I scooted away quickly after a harsh smack to the back of the head.

“Fine, fine,” I laughed easily.

Annie shot me a side-eyed glare. “Fucking hell. Are you already drunk, Eren?”

I frowned, and I could feel the wrinkle that formed in between my eyebrows. “Yeah,” I pouted dejectedly. “We played never have I ever.”

Annie nodded and left it at that, not fazed by the sudden mood swings, which were already bad when sober, but worse when drunk.

Reiner, however, smirked a bit and asked, “Did you get into a lot of shit back then, too?”

I leaned back in my seat, the serious topic veiled by a question delivered light-heartedly immediately sobering me, like rinsing my face in ice water. I surveyed Reiner carefully, debating the pros and cons of spilling any more information to these people who could potentially ship me back out to the streets. Maybe it was influenced by the alcohol, but I finally broke eye contact with the larger male and stared at the table.

“You could say that.”

Reiner laughed, but it was filled with resentment and pain. “Yeah, I think we can relate.”

I barely hesitated a second before blurting, “What’s your story then? How’d you guys get into… y’know?” If I was going to spill my guts – which of course I would, sooner or later, since I was drunk as fuck – they were too.

“Is it happy family time?” Annie snarled, immediately defensive. “Shall sing kumbaya?”

“I’m a wicked soprano,” I said, playing along casually.

Annie scowled dangerously. “You will be if you keep that up.”

My drunk brain didn’t comprehend the threat, so she raised an eyebrow and sighed when she realized that an explanation was needed. “I’m implying that I’m gonna kick your fucking balls, you fucking idiot.”

I snorted at her blunt language, not too worried about the threat, even though the part of me that was still thinking clearly was insisting that I probably should be.

In my drunken haze, I didn’t even notice the intentional topic change, and quickly forgot about my question.

 

* * *

 

 

The bright light hitting my closed eyes awoke me, and I groaned.

“F…fi’ more min’sss…” I slurred.

I stretched out on the bed. It was strangely comfortable for a camper out of the sixties, and the sheet set was much less scratchy than I remembered. My eyes snapped open and I started to panic as I realized I had no fucking clue where I was. Looking around me, I realized five things all at once: one, this was not my camper; two, I was naked; three, the pain in my hips and marks on my chest meant I probably fucked someone last night; four, said someone was currently in the bed with me, an arm that had previously been thrown over my shoulders now rested in my lap, where it had slipped when I’d sat up; and five, I had no idea how I ended up here.

I could remember up until the point where I’d finished off the rest of Annie’s unwanted cocktail, and that must have been my limit, because after that was a black, empty void.

I was surprised I wasn’t hungover at all. I had always been, in Armin’s words, ‘unfairly good’ at handling alcohol and had to suffer through hangovers the next day, but I really had outdone myself last night with the amount of alcohol I drank.

I didn’t want to look over at the person on the other side of the bed. I generally trusted myself to be okay at thinking rationally, more or less, even when I was hammered, but to drunk me, hooking up definitely fell under the category of “good idea”, regardless of whom I would be hooking up with.

I was being overdramatic. Whoever it was, they hadn’t woken up yet, so I could just skip out. Shitty thing to do, I know, but I’m kind of a shitty person.

I let my tense posture slump when a quick glance showed Annie lying next to me. Honestly, if I had been sober, I probably wouldn’t have slept with her (unless I was like, really fucking horny), just because of the whole complicated situation involving me and her trio, but she was preferable to fucking one of the other band members or crew and just making it awkward for the rest of the tour.

“Oi, Jaeger,” Annie grumbles into the pillow, one blue eye opening slightly. “You’re not even doing anything, and you’re too fucking loud. How the hell do Mikasa and Armin deal with you?” She rolled over, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to stay, or if it was okay to leave. She sighed and added, “Find your shit and piss off.”

I tried not to sigh with relief, at least not audibly, as I scrambled from the bed and redressed myself, eager to escape the inherent awkwardness of a morning after as quickly as possible.

I stepped out of the trailer, stretching my arms above my head, and realized that it was late morning, maybe close to noon. The buses and cars hadn’t left yet, but the flurry of activity showed that they probably would be soon.

I took two steps over to the camper, which was diagonally across from Annie’s, but froze in place when I heard an amused snort.

“Walk of shame, then, Eren?” I recognized the voice, and I almost groaned because I _so did not want to deal with this._ I wanted to get angry – hell, I already was angry – but I knew the best way to get out of this conversation and into my camper as quickly as possible.

Levi’s eyes were glinting in the light, and his bleached hair was tousled like he just woke up. He could even pull of bedhead (unlike me; my hair was probably an absolute mess), and if there was anything more unfair in the entire world, I couldn’t think of it in that moment.

“Yep,” I said. “Don’t act all high and mighty like you’ve never done one.” I started to leave, tensing when I heard Levi laugh, but not turning back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait on this one, I've been busier than i expected and over break (when i was planning on writing) i had a bunch of family activities (yaaay...) so... i'm sorry. it's a bit shorter than normal because i wanted to update and not keep you all waiting anymore... 
> 
> please give me some feedback on how i did! all comments honestly make my day, and really help me to update faster.


	9. i go looking for a stupid ass... but it's a really nice ass tbh

The road trip to Chicago, the site of Legion’s next show, was, to put it simply, fucking long and boring. Despite what Armin, the bastard, said about his schedule being sacred, he and I switched shifts so that he could recover from his hangover while I drove. We pulled five-hour shifts, changing every other state or so. We did it all in forty hours, all continuous except for one six hour sleeping break and a couple hour-long breaks to get actual food. By the time we arrived, I was fucking exhausted of that stupid little trailer.

Even though it felt like we had practically sprinted from Pomona to Chicago, we still weren’t the first there, since the crew who were more involved with the setup of the venue had to rush over to get prepped for the show, even though it wasn’t for seven days. Seemed like a lot of time, Mikasa told me, but it really wasn’t at all.

“It’ll go by like a fucking breeze, trust me,” she said, sounding elegant even when she swore. “When we have little breaks like this—” she did quotation mark gestures with her fingers. “—they pile in more stuff. Meet and greets, signings, etc., and you, Mr. Photographer, will have to go to all of it.”

She wasn’t wrong. That afternoon I received an email from Pixis outlining the schedule for the next week before the show, and I was having stress-induced anxiety just thinking about it. I was just a New Media Manager; I couldn’t imagine what actually being a band member was like. Maybe that’s why they were all fucking strange.

My point was proven as I pulled up Hanji’s twitter feed for my hourly check to make sure they weren’t posting anything against policy, and the top entry, posted only five minutes ago, was a blurry picture of the ceiling of the tour bus, captioned only with: “ _Mike is a good baker.”_ I hurried to take that one down, because, even if it wasn’t pot-related, it could be interpreted that way, and that wasn’t good either.

I ground aloud, startling Armin, who was typing up a press brief beside me, when I saw Levi’s feed: _someone take Hanji’s phone away from them before they get us in trouble._ Well, if people weren’t jumping to the wrong (well, technically right) conclusion before that, they were now. Luckily it had only been up for a couple of minutes, and I quickly took it down. As the page refreshed, I was confronted with another problematic tweet: _stop deleting my shit, you asshole._ That one got deleted, too. On my own page, I decided to make an ambiguous tweet: _My job is hard enough without you telling me how I’m doing it wrong. Trust me, YOUR wrong. I’d think I know better._

I went back to Levi’s page, and saw that I’d been tagged in a tweet. It simply read: _@erenjaegermeister YOU’RE._

“Hey, Armin,” I said slowly.

He looked up from his work immediately. He was busy but he recognized my, ‘I need you to tell me this is something I shouldn’t do’ voice. “What Eren?”

“So, hypothetically, if I were to get into a Twitter spat with a certain member of Legion…” I began.

“Define spat,” Armin answered.

“He corrected my grammar, and I’m gonna tell him he’s a dick.”

“No, Eren,” Armin said, turning back to his work.

I nodded. “Okay, but say, what if I didn’t tag him in it?”

“ _No,_ Eren,” Armin said, sterner this time.

“Fine,” I pouted. I deleted both my tweet and Levi’s, erasing all evidence of the disagreement, just in case.

I navigated back to Legion’s official website and finished up the post I was making. I was having a bit of trouble with the formatting and whole posting thing, since it was way more complicated than it should have been, but I had just finished uploading the last of the ten pictures I’d selected from the meet and greet and was now thinking out the paragraph word for word. It was a long process, since every couple of words I’d go back and delete them, and every sentence was thoroughly revised to make sure that each word worked perfectly.

Armin snapped his laptop shut and stood. “It’s a rock band webpage, Eren, not an address to the United Nations,” he said.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, adding one final sentence and, after double-checking the grammar and spelling, posting the pictures and paragraph. “There, it’s done.”

Armin hummed the hallelujah chorus under his breath and walks over to the kitchen to make dinner.

“Mikasa won’t be back till late,” Armin said. “She’s meeting with Marco and Historia to coordinate the visual design of this show.”

“Got it,” I said, but inside I was groaning. I would never complain to someone who was willingly cooking me dinner, but Mikasa was the only good cook out of our trio. I was hopeless, but in some ways I was better than Armin. He was too ambitious and tried to make things over his skill level. I knew exactly where my skill level was – pretty much rock bottom— and stuck with it.

“What are you making?” I asked warily.

Armin shot me a look, knowing exactly why I was asking and worried. “Just a microwaveable pizza, jerk.”

I sniffed. “I suppose that is acceptable.”

Armin snorted. “Oh, shut it, you ass.”

 

* * *

 

I stared down the dark Chicago street, wondering how it had come to this. Just that morning I had been eating cornflakes with Armin and Mikasa in the safety of the shitty – but secure – truck camper, and now I was about to plunge into the most dangerous part of Chicago.

The details of how I got from point A to point B were a bit unclear to me, but all I knew was that Nanaba had come to me, frantic, saying that they needed someone to go out and look for Levi, who had disappeared into this armpit of the city with only a vague “I’ll be back”, except it had been all day and he still hadn’t returned. Apparently, they were desperate enough for Mikasa to recruit me, knowing about my experience in places that were less than safe. As a teen, I spent more time than not in the dangerous streets of San Diego. I wouldn’t have agreed to help, but for Mikasa to willingly put me into harm’s way, the situation must have been pretty fucking serious. I just hoped we wouldn’t find the little asshole all cozy in a coffee shop or something. Unlikely, but, hey, it would be fucking annoying.

“Why are you packing and I’m fucked?” I complained to Annie, Reiner, Bert, and Hannes. I tried and failed to keep the tension out of my voice. “At least give me a fucking gun if you’re gonna send me out into the most dangerous parts of the city,” I grumbled, pulling my scarf up around my face. Unlike Pomona, where it had been bright and sunny despite being December, Chicago was frigid with one foot of snow lying on the ground. One foot of snow that was currently soaking through my combat boots and freezing my toes.

Hannes slipped his gun into the holster attached to his uniform belt and sighed. “We’re all certified to carry one. Besides, they’re as a precaution only.”

“No one will find out,” I said, wiggling my fingers at him, partly a plea for someone to hand me a weapon and partly a way to warm up my frozen digits. No one bothered to tell me ‘no’, but I got the message.

“Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’ll protect you,” Reiner jabbed, crossing his arms over his chest so that his biceps bulged.

I shot him the finger, barely managing since my fingers were so cold. “I may not be carrying a gun, but I _do_ have a two switchblades and a butterfly knife hidden in my boot. Keep it up and you’ll find one of the three lodged up your ass.”

“Oooh, kinky.”

“Shut the fuck up, Reiner, I swear to fucking god.”

Hannes clapped a hand on each of our shoulders. “Alrighty then! Let’s split up—”

“Have you ever seen literally any horror movie ever?” Bert spoke up, still soft-spoken despite his highly accusatory tone. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “ _Pinches idiotas, los güeros. Ay, dios mio.”_

_(Fuckin’ idiots, white people. My God)._

I didn’t bother trying to understand that. All I knew was that it was Spanish, and that it was probably insulting.

“Let’s split up,” Hannes repeated, undeterred. “I’ll go with Eren and Annie. We’ll go left. Reiner and Bert, you head right. When you find Levi, radio in.”

“Will do,” Annie muttered from beside me, low enough that only I could hear. “After I make him wish he’d never wandered off.”

“I’ll hold him for you,” I said back.

Hannes, Annie, and I headed off, walking down the streets with no clear destination in mind. Thanks to the now-activated GPS in Levi’s phone, we had his location narrowed down to a square quarter-mile, assuming he had his phone on him. That still left a lot of area that we needed to search, including areas, like abandoned buildings or homes, that we couldn’t legally enter.

Further complicating the situation was the fact that this square-quarter-mile was located in the most dangerous area in Chicago.

“Why the fuck are we doing this again?” I grumbled. “Just call the cops with a missing person.”

“There’s a minimum amount of time before you can report a person missing, dumbass,” Annie said.

“We also don’t want to attract any unwanted attention,” Hannes added with a stupid wink.

That exact moment, some scumbag yelled from across the street, _“Hey, blondie, nice ass! Why don’t’cha come on over and hang wit’ us for a bit, yeah?”_

Annie didn’t even turn to look at the cat caller, who was now yelling something offensive about Hannes and my sexuality, which was offensive since being gay shouldn’t be offensive – especially when I was, like, sixty-two percent gay. Well, to be honest, I’m not really picky with gender, but I have my preferences.

“Unwanted attention, you said?” Annie snorted.

Hannes shot a reproachful look at the catcallers, muttering something about how they were ‘makin’ him look bad’. “Let’s go,” he said instead.

I didn’t bother pointing out to him that we were already walking. Hannes – while a nice guy – struck me as the type of person who, while his heart was in the right place, always ended up useless. If I had to guess, I’d say that his IQ was somewhere around a solid 60, and even I could look down on that number.

I walked forward casually, Annie at my side, while we both tried to ignore Hannes. It was blatantly obvious that the guy had little to no experience in environments like this, so he was walking jerkily and looking around frantically. If I hadn’t been worried he’d get himself mugged, I would’ve suggested splitting off again, because, at least Annie and I would appear to fit in.

“Act natural, Hannes,” I said. “You look like someone’s about to jump you.”

Hannes hissed like a rabid cat. “You gotta stay vigilant, Jaeger.”

“Yeah, vigilant, not paranoid,” I snorted. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you attract the most attention by trying not to attract attention? Act natural.”

Hannes huffed, as if I’d gravely insulted his beloved mother. “Excuse you, son, but I’ll be having the last laugh once the hooligans come about!”

“Right,” I said, giving in. Ostentatious escort it was, then.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it, Jaeger?” Annie muttered in my ear. I doubted she’d be careless enough to be overheard, but a quick glance back at Hannes showed he hadn’t been paying much attention.

“Not good ones,” I said lowly. Annie didn’t respond, but the look on her face told me enough. She agreed with me.

“Once we find this little shit I’m gonna kick his motherfucking ass, I swear to… I don’t know, fucking _Satan,”_ Annie snarled, which, for her, was downright eloquent.

There were a variety of things I could’ve said, but the one thing that came out of my mouth was, “Aren’t you shorter than him?”

That resulted in me getting elbowed in the gut. I doubled over, wheezing, as Annie started to walk off. “What the fuck, Annie?” I spat out.

She barely glanced at me. “Sorry,” she said. “Or whatever.” She cracked her knuckles, all for show. “Well, then, _Rogue_ ,” she said, calling me by my old street fighting name to goad a reaction out of me. “Let’s find a midget.”

“Midget is defined by less than four foot ten inches, so I’m not a _fucking_ midget, _thanks,”_ a familiar voice spit, sending shivers up my spine.

Levi was staring at Annie like he was going to set her on fire with just his glare alone, and I wouldn’t put it past him with how fucking scary his glare was.

“Found him!” I explained, semi-seriously, in a pathetic attempt to break the tension.

“Who cares what the official height is, aren’t you still short?”

“Aren’t you shorter?” Levi retorted.

“Guys, let’s not do this,” I tried to break in. My attempt was half-hearted at best, since I was going to avoid getting caught in the middle of an argument with two of the scariest, deadliest people I knew at all costs. Besides, my face was somewhat precious to me, and although my nose was pain-free and had been for the past couple days thanks to lots of rest and pain medication, but I wasn’t about to risk getting another hit that would fuck it up for good.

My attempt at peace was ignored, and Levi and Annie were now getting in each other’s faces. I sighed, and sat on the curb, pulling out a cigarette and letting them work it out, whether that be with their fists or with yelling and screaming – never mind if the yelling and screaming attracting every thug with a gun within the surrounding twenty feet.

“Hey, knock it off, both of you,” Hannes said. Annie listened, since he was her boss, and Levi had no choice but to comply since she had gone silent and couldn’t rebuke anything. “Let’s get to the vans. I’m calling Reiner and Bert now.” I tuned out the conversation, leading the way to the van while twirling my switchblade – unopened, of course – in my hand.

“Where’d you get that?”  Levi asked out of nowhere, startling me as he came up from behind me to hover at my shoulder. He picked my switchblade out of my fingers nimbly, flicking it open and inspecting the blade curiously.

I hesitated. “Why?” I knew exactly where I got it, but telling my boss that I’d mugged someone and stolen it off them wasn’t really a great business practice.

“It’s a Benchmade. Looks like the 2550,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “How the fuck do you know that?”

He didn’t answer my question. “Seriously, where’d you get this? It retails for, like, two hundred dollars.”

“Wait, really?” I asked, my mouth dropping open. Maybe that was why the guy I’d swiped it from had it out for me for the next three years. Small price to pay, though, it was a good knife, and I guess the price tag explained why.

Levi raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”

I tried not to look sheepish. “Uh, I kinda… stole it.”

I was sure I was fucked, but Levi just looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face trying to act like a bad boy.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. There were so many ways to take that, and I decided not to take it in any of them. “Nanaba and Pixis are gonna kick your ass.”

Levi handed the knife back to me, hilt first. “But it’s such a nice ass,” he deadpanned.

“You’re just fucking with me,” I said, the same amount of expression in my voice as he’d had.

“Bingo.”

 

* * *

 

Just like I’d said, Levi got thoroughly chewed out by not only Nanaba and Pixis, but Hannes, Erd, and Erwin. Despite that, not one person could get him to tell them where he’d been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE!!!! You all sent such encouraging messages and I hope this chapter is good enough for not having posted in... a really long time. This past semester was hell but now that I've got some more free time hopefully I'll update a lot more often. So there's some more ereri in this chapter, finally! I hope you enjoy it, and as always, please please please give me some feedback! Let me know what you think!


	10. i get a new job and i dont actually suck at it nice

Now that my more of my past had come to light, particularly the grittier, more dangerous part, my duties (and luckily, paycheck) had increased drastically. It was draining, for sure, and I say that I could deal with it because it’s super fulfilling or some shit, but that would be a fucking lie.

Somewhere in the past couple weeks or so, I’d made the mistake of getting on Levi and Hanji’s good sides – fuck knows how – I wasn’t even sure Levi _had_ a good side – and now, I was assigned occasionally to one of them as a temporary bodyguard so that each member was assigned a guard to watch them. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been assigned to, say, Erwin or someone, but no, I had to be assigned to the two most troublesome members of the band. Hanji would constantly pester me, and Levi would go out of his way to make my job as hard as possible.

Like now for example.

“Hey, Shitface,” the blond bastard snapped from where he was sitting. It was moments before a signing, and Levi was testy thinking about the four hours of _people_ he would have to endure. “Get me a tea from the Starbucks next door.” He paused and thought about it. “Royal English Breakfast Brewed Tea.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m your bodyguard, not your personal assistant. And I’m supposed to stay here to take pictures of the signing.” I waved my camera in case he missed it where it was hanging around my neck.

Levi smiled at me, and I flinched. Over the course of the two or three days I’d been working my new job, I’d come to realize a few things, and the first lesson I learned was that when Levi smiled, you were well and truly fucked.

“Fine, fine— Going,” I snarled.

“Be back in time for pictures!” He called brightly – or as brightly as someone like Levi could manage – as I stormed out of the small venue.

Girls screamed as I exited, before realizing that I wasn’t a Legion member and quickly getting bored. Then one shrill voice called out _“Oh my god, it’s Nose Guy!”_ and the pandemonium broke out again. I would say that it wasn’t as excited as before, but I’d prefer to keep my ego intact as much as possible. Still, I had to practically fight my way through the crowd to make it into the Starbucks, which was firmly enforcing a _Customers Only_ policy for the duration of the signing.

I got in line behind two tall, buff guys wearing leather jackets and sunglasses _indoors—_ fucking douches. They were ordering in gruff voices, and I almost wanted to laugh when they ordered regular black coffee.

“Yeah, uh, tea,” I said when it was my turn.

The barista raised an eyebrow. “Tea,” he deadpanned. “What kind?”

“Uh, royal tea,” I tried, making it sound like a question.

The barista closed his eyes for a second. “Do you mean Royal English Breakfast?” His voice didn’t change at all, even though it was a question.

“Yeah, that’s it!” I said brightly, trying purposefully to be as annoying as possible. The barista quickly finished taking my order and ushered me through the line, hoping to avoid talking to the idiot customer. I was tempted to stick around, make some small talk, just to annoy him, but: one, I hated small talk; and two, I was too fucking lazy to make an effort.

I stood behind (and almost in between) the two leather-clad douches, scrolling through my Tumblr dashboard to avoid some of the awkwardness.

They luckily got their drinks quickly and ran off, much to my relief, and Levi’s tea was finished quickly afterwards.

“Erin?” the barista called. I rolled my eyes, annoyed but not surprised at the mistake.

I grab my—Levi’s—drink and left quickly, hurrying to get back in time before all the signing starts and the fans enter a whole new level of hysteria and excitement.

“There,” I said begrudgingly as I set the tea down in front of the stupid asshole harder than probably necessary.

Levi grinned at me teasingly, and the unfamiliar expression surprised me enough to render me speechless.

It—it was just surprising, that’s all. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was actually _really fucking attractive_ when he smiled…

Anyway, I was annoyed enough at Levi to get mad at myself for even thinking that, so I shoved my uncomfortable attraction under layers of denial.

“Alright, first group coming in!” Hannes announced in his usual boisterous manner.

The signing proceeded as usual. The first group was a bunch of squealing girls, all wearing a Legion t-shirt with a different member’s face on it that they beg each respective member to sign.

I took pictures as usual, getting some good ones of Hanji scribbling a mustache onto the shirt with Erwin’s face on it, and one of Petra in a group hug with three other girls who all claim to be internet buddies. I didn’t care much for the details, but it made for a good picture that showed positive interaction with the fanbase.

The signing passed slowly this time now that the glamour of it all had worn off. Now that I was used to the whole swing of things, it was honestly boring. Towards the end, after hour number three, I already had five hundred pictures. It was a little hard to stay motivated when I was sure I had enogh pictures. Instead, I set my camera aside after double checking that I had what I needed and started to focus more on the bodyguard part of my duties.

I gripped my Benchmark switchblade, which I’d strapped to my arm under my jacket. Since it was my first event, I figured that my hypervigilance would wear off eventually. I could deal with it for a while.

The next group was ushered in, and I did a double take when I noticed the two men from Starbucks enter. They weren’t the typical fan to show up for this type of band.

The one on the left handed Legion’s first EP to Mike, the first band member in line.

“It’s for my niece,” he said gruffly. “Alice.”

“Alrighty,” Mike was saying, easygoing as always, not fazed by the strange men.

I gripped my knife a bit harder, watching the one in back as he waited behind his friend.

They made their way down the lines, making uncomfortable small talk with the band members, who quickly realized that neither man was really a fan of theirs, and that the only reason they were there was for the niece.

I started to feel stupid for my hypervigilance, until they reached the end of the line where Levi sat. I saw the man in back take a step closer to the man in front, sticking a hand in his jacket.

I was moving without really thinking about it, determined to get to Levi as soon as possible.

This could’ve been fucking embarrassing for me, especially since this guy could be pulling out a pack of gum or something. Shit, I’d never hear the end of that one. It’d be fucking embarrassing.

I stutter one step, suddenly unsure of myself, and that’s when the glint of a blade hits the light and I lost all of my hesitation.

_Fucking hell, first day on the job and someone’s trying to fucking off him. Shit._

I reach Levi in three giant strides, and he turns to raise an eyebrow at me, wordlessly asking what the hell I was doing. I ignored him—the ungrateful asshole—and instead grabbed the man’s knife arm, twisted it until the knife was dropped, and slammed him face-first into the table. All-in-all it probably took about five seconds.

There was a moment of dead silence.

Then everything exploded.

“What the fuck?!” Hanji screamed, leaping to her feet and throwing herself back away from the men, into Erwin and Mike. The three of them toppled over.

Annie, Reiner, Bert, and Hannes all had their guns out, pointed at the second man, who seemed to be mid-reach for his own weapon. He was frozen, not surrendering but not attacking, and the four of them kept yelling at him to disarm himself and get on his knees. He still didn’t move.

Petra was hysterical, somewhere in between a panic attack, screaming fit, and sobbing, hugging Levi around his neck and middle and pulling him up, way from the table and into the corner.

Police that had been on crowd control outside streamed in, packing the room full of way too many people. One of them pushed me off of the man, replacing me so that they could get some cuffs on him.

I sighed, suddenly exhausted, backing up against the wall and pulling out my tablet, dreading the damage control that might be needed if any of Legion’s avid fans found out that someone tried to kill their _Precious Levi._

I thought for a split second that maybe, just maybe, we’d gotten off easy and no one had noticed anything was wrong. Then the posts started to flow in like that one scene in Harry Potter with all the letters and the douche uncle or whatever.

@twinkletoes78: _a ton of police just ran into @legionsigning… what’s going on??_

@fudddyfredddy: _shit’s going down at @legionsigning_

@emilyyyyyaaaaaassss: _oh my god is everyone ok in the @legionsigning PLEASE SAY MY HUSBAND IS OK_

@dsnythngmttr1: _so apparently there was some attack at the @legionsigning._

I swore, loudly and thoroughly, and began to compose a series of tweets to post on the Official Legion Twitter.

_Earlier today there was an altercation during a signing in which an unnamed man and his accomplice tried to attack the band…_

_…the attackers were apprehended and no one was hurt. Thank you for all your concern about our safety._

I figured it was good enough and submitted both for review and posting.

I sighed and shut my eyes, then groaned as I realized that my phone was buzzing in my pocket. There was only one person who that could possibly be, and who also happened to be the one person I least wanted to deal with in that moment.

“Hello, Mikasa,” I said, answering the phone. I was just ready to get this over with, but with my luck, she’d make me do a full injury report and stay on the phone with her until I had safely arrived back at the camp.

“Eren!” she cried, way too loudly, way too close to my ear. I flinched and pulled it a couple inches away. “Are you injured? Are you ok? What happened, Eren? Is everyone ok?”

“I’m fine, Mikasa, I’m fine. There was just a guy with a knife. He’s taken care of.”

There was a pause. “…and by taken care of you mean…?”

“The police have him, fuck Mikasa, what did you think it meant?”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer, since we both knew exactly what she had thought, and it was number one on a long list of things that we didn’t talk about. “Are you injured, Eren? Don’t lie, tell me everything.”

“I’m fine, Mikasa. He didn’t land a hit on me, not even a little one.”

There was another silence and I swore mentally – I’d basically just admitted to Mikasa that I was directly involved in the incident, which would make her helicoptering a million times worse.

“I’m _fine._ Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with me!”

There was a series of muffled voices in the background, and I heard a thump as Mikasa put her hand over the speaker to respond.

She huffed furiously. “This is not over, Eren Jaeger, we’ll talk when you get back.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes, but Mikasa had already hung up.

 

* * *

 

As I expected, Mikasa demanded a full report of everything and anything that had happened, giving me a thorough, NSA-approved airport security pat down to check me for injuries. It was fucking embarrassing, but at least she’d waited until we were in the privacy of our shitty trailer to do it.

That following couple of hours were tense. The men had been locked up and charged, but that didn’t make anyone feel any safer. The men still hadn’t given a motive, but anyone with any experience – Me, or the titan trio (though none of us was gonna say anything) – could tell that they were probably hitmen or some sort of merc-for-hire. Sloppy ones, but still.

We had the entire complex packed up by nightfall, and headed over to a local hotel, where the management had placed some last-minute reservations so that we were somewhat protected if anyone came looking.

The room assignments were an unhappy surprise though: each bodyguard had been paired off with a member for maximum protection.

“Annie and Petra,” Pixis announced, handing them a key card. “Erwin and Reiner. Mike and Bertholdt.” He paced along in front of the group, completely unaware that I had broken out in a cold sweat, nearly panicking at the prospect of sharing a room with you-know-who. “Hannes and Hanji. Levi and Eren.”

I shut my eyes, my worst fears coming true, as the stupid drummer grabbed the key card and set off at a fucking impossible pace towards our room.

I ran to keep up, dragging my duffel bag behind me. I shot a pleading look back at Mikasa, who simply shrugged and turned away, heading to where she was rooming with Historia (or at least supposed to be. I was sure that Ymir would insist a trade).

Traitor.

I reached the door, which Levi hadn’t bothered to hold for me. Instead, he left his rolling suitcase between the door and the frame to keep it propped open, forcing me to move it aside to get in. _Haven’t even stepped in the room yet and he’s already pissing me the fuck off._

I stopped in the doorway, looking at Levi with raised eyebrows. The man had torn up the nicely made bed, all of the dressings on the floor, and was pulling a new sheet set out of his own duffel.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hotel beds are fucking disgusting,” he answered. “I’m not using their blankets.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sleep on a tour bus with four other people. One of whom happens to be Hanji.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “I know who they are, though, and what they do or don’t do on my bed. I’m not sleeping on a bed where some strangers could’ve jizzed all over.”

I open my mouth to retort, but quickly shut it again, thinking better of it.

“You’re not gonna be weird about this, right, Shitface?”

“I think I can survive living with you for a week, Fuckhead.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Not what I meant.”

That’s when I realized, my gut sinking: there was only one bed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so sorry for the delay with this chapter. i've had some shit going on, on top of a big writer's block that made this chapter impossible. i finally got to the whole "more ereri interactions" i promised though, so i hope you like it!! next chapter should be interesting... this wasn't edited though cause i just wanted to get it up and not make you guys wait any longer, so let me know if you catch a mistake or grammar error or something. 
> 
> please let me know what you think!


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